The Alchemist's Son
by TheLastNautilus
Summary: On a routine trip out of Amestris, Edward Elric-Rockbell finds an abandoned child about his son's age left out in the cold. Somehow, the decision is made for Edward to raise the little tyke. The world better watch out, because when the alchemist's son comes knocking, trouble is sure to follow. Rated T for language and occasional violence.
1. Chapter 1

In an old myth, the planet lived in a realm known as Theia, a universe joined with it's twin sister, Gaia. Over time, plants and animals would travel between the worlds doorways and spread their species until both planets had near identical ecosystems.

As a doorway would open, humans would gather around the point. Trade booming briefly before shutting back down as the rip sealed. Rinse and repeat, a constant pattern. Science, culture, and language splintering and branching between the worlds. The cultures of all kinds of wixen and muggles mixing and melding until the hybrid art of alchemy was born in a small city-state called Xerxes.

But as time marched on, empires rose and fell. Xerxes swelled into a great power only to be slaughtered, and slowly but surely, people began to forget where the bridges between realms lied.

Infinity spirals. A snake eats its own tail and chokes to death on its flesh, The Unknowable Truth grins at a joke untold. Four and a half centuries passed and there were only three left who remembered.

And then there is only one.

As the second man, the last man on Terra to know of these passages, died, he left his sons with the information needed to find and enter Earth. Armed with their father's journals, the two left on a mission to chase these stories and revolutionize their world. Passing the boundary for the first time in hundreds of years.

Their first stop, a land that called itself Britain.

* * *

"Sir? Sir, you need to wake up."

Edward Elric-Rockbell frowned in his sleep, golden eyes blinking open in sleep drunk confusion. The bus driver, a portly man with dark eyes, stood frowning at him.

"It's the end of the line," the man explained gruffly, "you need to get off."

Ed groaned, rubbing at his cheek where the cold glass had numbed it to the touch. He hadn't meant to fall asleep like that, and it'd no doubt be hell finding his way back to the dingy motel in the dark. Alphonse was going to skin him alive.

Picking up his suitcase, he thanked the man in heavily accented and broken English. Stepping off the cold bus and into the even colder October air, he figured he could still ask for directions from the locals. His old wounds ached dully, and his breath fogged as he squinted at a nearby sign.

Privet Drive, huh?

Identical houses lined his either flank like sentries, and the broken streetlights produced no light at all. Leaving him with an almost eerie feeling, like he'd somehow stepped out just a little out of time and space.

Then the lights clicked on, and Ed winced at the stabbing pain in his eyes. _Ow._ Consider the spell _broken._

A loud cry punctuated his thoughts, and his wide eyes quickly tracked down the source. There, on the doorstep of a house labeled with a shining 4, was a fucking _baby._

Holy shit, it was the middle of _winter._

Tripping over his feet in his haste to reach the child, who was apparently just as disgruntled at the sudden light as Ed, he quickly shoved his fingers against his face. Breath breaking out in a relieved huff at the gentle heat the babe was swaddled in. At the very least, someone had left a warming charm on the child's blanket.

The baby fussed at his comparatively cold touch, shrieking loudly and swigging his tiny fist at his fingers. A jagged and angry cut had been carved into his forehead, and inky black hair shot out in every direction around his light brown face like the uneven down of a newborn chick. The child looked to be around Ethan's age, and Ed found himself smiling despite himself.

Plucking the old fashioned letter out of the child's fist, he settled the boy against his shoulder. Bouncing lightly until he had stopped crying and fell into a sniffling silence. The letter was written in fanciful cursive, giving Edward a headache as he tried to decipher the handwriting on top of the already foreign alphabet.

After a minute, he decided that the names were probably Dunsley, or perhaps Dimsley. The rest was the address, so he didn't bother past the first line. Turning back to the house's door and rapping loudly on the wood. When nobody answered, he tried the doorbell.

Another baby began screaming somewhere in the home, and loud thundering steps shook the door. As it was wrenched open, Ed came face to face with a man who bore uncanny resemblance to a walrus, all the way down to the flabby, flipper like arms.

"Who're you?" The man immediately began yelling, "I should call the police for this! Get off my property!"

Ed wrinkled his nose as the man's screaming landed spittle across his face. Wiping it away, the Amestrian frowned at him, "are you Mr. Dinsley?"

"Dursley!" He barked, face turning a concerning shade of purplish red.

Edward offered the envelope, "sorry for waking you, someone left a baby at your door with a letter, any idea why?"

A stupid expression crossed the man's face as he decipered Edward's words, who's thick accent often times made him hard to understand for the natives. Mumbling something rude and more then a little racist, he tore the letter from Ed's fingers.

Waiting patiently as the man scanned the letter, Ed idly rocked the child drooling on his travel coat. Behind him, Ed could see a thin, horse faced woman peering at them from the stairwell, another toddler in her own arms. Waving passively at her, she sneered and turned away.

As Ed's impression of the family tanked steadily lower, Dursely let out an inarticulate shout of rage. Tearing the parchment in his hands to shreds and whirling on Ed so violently he instinctively fell into a defensive position.

"We're not taking him!" He screamed, "we will never let one of those freaks into our home! You take care of it, and you bloody well never come back!"

Jerking his automail foot into the door before he could slam it shut, Edward forgot to censor himself in front of the child as his own rising temper flared, "freak!? He's a fucking baby! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

The man's already radish colored face turned a few shades darker, "we're not taking it! You picked it up first, it's your problem!"

"What the- 'You're the last one who touched it' doesn't apply to _children!_" He snarled, his already low opinion crawling into rock bottom's basement.

"If you don't leave I'm calling the police!"

Both children were crying now, and the woman was glancing at the windows nervously, clearly afraid to wake the neighbors.

"Fine!" Ed yelled, tucking the child closer to his chest, "I'll fucking take him. What's his name?"

"Harry Potter," Horse said before her husband could respond, seemingly just desperate to get him to go away. "He was born July 31st to my sister Lily and James Potter. If he's here, they're dead."

Nodding once, he slid his foot out and let Walrus, who looked ready to punch him, slam the door shut in his face. Turning on his heel, he strode away from the building, neighboring lights beginning to blink on.

Simmering in anger as he once again bounced the child in his arms into a calmer state, he shifted him onto his back so he could peer down at the babe's face. Harry's face was wet with tears, and as he shoved a hand into his mouth he peered up at Ed with red rimmed eyes. His irises were a cross somewhere between the bottle-green hue Edward's mother had sported and an electric acid green more akin to Hughes' bright gaze. The dual remembrance made him grin sapily at the child.

He sighed, Winry was going to kill him. She had only just given birth to Frankie, and here he was carrying home a third child.

Shifting the baby back onto his shoulder so he could better grip his suitcase, Harry's pudgy fingers tangled into his hair, slick with spit. Ed tipped his head back to breathe in the crisp winter air. Looks like he and Al were heading back a bit early.

Now if only he could figure out the way back to the motel.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a few hours, but after a long walk Edward had managed to find the motel. Unlocking the door in the early hours of the morning, he shouldered his way in. Alphonse had evidently been pacing in the hallway, because no sooner had he closed the door then he was tacked in a whirl of golden hair and grey fabric.

His back hit the wood as Al reared back, green-gold eyes flashing, "Where the hell have you been!? I thought something had happened to-"

Their trailed off as his gaze landed on the shifting tuft of dark hair Edward had bundled under the brown flap of his travel coat, "Brother, what is that."

It didn't sound like a question, but Ed was nice and answered anyway, "_he_ is a baby, Al. Some doctor you are."

The Amestrian was comforting on his tongue. The constant concentration translating English required of him had begun to give him a headache after a while.

Alphonse was nodding, slowly, like they were still deciding whether or not to scream. Finally, their eyes met Ed's, "Brother, did you steal _a fucking baby!?_"

Edward sniffed, raising his nose in a mostly bullshit show of offense, "I acquired Harry with completely moral and only slightly illegal methods."

"_Brother._"

"I'm raising him," Edward finally explained, stepping past his little sibling, "meet your newest nephew, his name is Harry."

Al let out a strangled noise, "where are his parents? Isn't that their job?"

"I didn't steal him, if that's what you're implying," it was totally what they were implying, "they're dead. His aunt and her family weren't ready or willing to take him, so I did."

A mixture of the motel bed and the bedside table created a somewhat garish bassinet, with a wicked looking gargoyle perched at the top like a terrifying guardian. Harry's back hit the child sized mattress, confused green eyes meeting gold as Ed set him down. He blew a raspberry, and the child giggled up at him.

"I'm going to need a little more context then that, Brother."

"They called him and his parents freaks, Al," Edward hissed, anger building in his tone as the child grabbed at his wriggling fingers, "and whoever tried to put him with that family decided the best method was to just drop a baby on a concrete step in the asscrack of winter with only a letter and a warming charm. They didn't even ring the doorbell before they left."

Alphonse nodded, eyes focused, "what'd the letter say?"

"Fu- Frick if I know," Ed plopped down on the motel bed, bending down to remove his boots, "lady's husband tore it apart before I could read it."

"So that's it then? You're just going to keep him? What if this planet has widespread foster care, there could be other options."

"Concrete in October, Al. If there's a system, it's already failed him."

There was a moment of silence, then Al let out a long breath, "Winry is going to kill you, Brother."

Ed let out a bark of laughter, and the two chuckled fatalistically into the night.

* * *

Doorways through the veil were a lot easier to come by at this time in October, and by dusk the next day the duo turned trio had reached their ride back. Due to lack of supplies, Harry had been clad in clothing made from scraps of the siblings', including a cloth diaper made from one of Ed's lesser loved shirts.

They came out in a forested area somewhere North of East City, where a small team of military officers had been posted in case something went airy with their trip. Leaving Alphonse to explain their early return, Edward took off to call Winry.

Setting Harry down by his feet with a few hastily crafted toys, Ed waited anxiously for his wife to pick up.

The phone clicked, "Hello, Winry Elric-Rockbell speaking."

Edward's face split into a wobbly grin, his beautiful wife's voice causing joy to bubble in his stomach like the world's best chemical reaction, "hey, Win."

"Edward? You're back early."

"Uh yea, about that," he spoke, voice wavering, "how are the kids?"

There was a pause, and when Winry spoke again there was suspicion in her tone, "Ethan's been using more full sentences, but Frankie has been as crolicy as ever, why?"

"Can't a man ask after his wife and beautiful children?" Edward defended hastily.

"Edward Elric-Rockbell, what did you do?"

He sighed, slumping in his seat. At his feet, Harry had already managed to coat nearly his entire onesie in dirt, "this probably wasn't the souvenir you were expecting, but I managed to pick up a baby while in Gaia."

"_I'm sorry!?_"

Flinching with the phantom sensation of her wrench, Edward spoke quickly, "he'd been abandoned out in the cold! All they left for him was a letter and a warming charm, and the people who he was supposed to go to just called him a freak when I rang their doorbell!"

His voice softened, watching Harry giggle brightly at a few worms he'd dug up, "he's Ethan's age, and he doesn't have anyone else. Please, Win."

There was another long pause, then, slowly and quietly, "what's his name?"

"Harry Potter."

Silence, then, "well, I suppose we were never going to stop at two anyway."

A large grin split his face, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, "you'll love him. He's got the softest black hair and the chubbiest little cheeks I've ever seen-"

"Is that so?" Winry mused, voice thick with amusement, "you know Ed, most people bring home stray cats."

He laughed, leaning forward to flick a beetle off Harry's ear, "yeah well, you know us Elrics. We've never been ones for tradition."

* * *

Harry Potter was a troublemaker right from the word go.

Between his apparent separation anxiety and a baked in propensity for mischief, the young parents could hardly afford to take their eyes off of him for more than a minute at a time.

Whenever the couple would lie him down for the night, they'd leave the nursery only to find him lying in their bed with a shit eating grin the minute they opened the door. Sneaking into every space in the house and giving his parents heart attacks every time they opened a cupboard only to find a giggling baby. And while at first the young parents had been ecstatic their child had such strong magic, by the fourth tantrum turned cyclone the patience was beginning to wear thin.

"I couldn't have just picked up a normal fucking baby," Edward said late one night, deep bags under his eyes and hair sticking out at increasingly odd angles as his sanity frayed, "no, that'd be too easy. I had to find Merlin's second fucking coming, apparently."

Winry just groaned and buried her head under a pillow.

But the family loved their little black sheep, and so a few anti-apparition wards stronger, they endured. And bit by bit, Harry adjusted. Learning to sleep soundly through the night and call the neighbor's big black dog by her name instead of "Pa'foot."

Ethan in particular was quite taken with his new little brother. And even if Harry cried when he found he couldn't teleport to Ed and Winry's bed anymore, Ethan had inherited enough intelligence and bullheaded determination from his parents to sneak him into his own crib instead. Learning to walk and climb just to find his way to Harry.

Harry, for his part, was just as happy with Ethan as anyone else, and by the time the two could use full sentences they had grown thick as thieves. Pooling and sharing everything from toys to birthday parties, despite Ethan being three months older than Harry.

"_Dad!_ Frankie stole my scooter again!"

"Did not!"

Now if only he could be taught to tolerate his sister.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was ten years old when the letters came.

Dad was making dinner, and had absently asked Harry to fetch the mail as Ethan kept the younger children out from underfoot. Dodging five year old Callum as he stepped outside for Mom's package, Harry froze when he saw it.

It was an owl. Huge, larger than his head even, with dark feathers and curled tufts closer to the center of its head than any species Harry knew of. It hooted when it saw him, taking off the top of the cardboard box had perched on and swooping towards his head.

But his father hadn't spent so many years teaching his children to fight just for Harry to freeze now. Shutting the door in the owl's face and hearing a satisfying _thunk_ for his troubles.

There were some sounds of disgruntled screeching, before a thick envelope with an old fashioned wax seal slid through the slot. Harry picked up the letter, scanning the back quickly.

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Attic Bedroom**

**Rockbell Automail Shop**

**Rush Valley**

**Southern Amestris**

That was odd. Harry didn't recognise the handwriting, and there was no return address either. He shrugged, shoving it in his back pocket and collecting the mail. Setting it on the living room table next to Mary, who was scribbling in a coloring book.

At the table Harry retold the story of what he had dubbed the Killer Owl, grinning at the younger kids' squealing joy as he cast illusions of the exaggerated story overhead.

When he was little, his magic had been so strong his parents had had to bring in all kinds of experts, lessons on control beginning as soon as possible as his oversized core caused natural disaster on natural disaster. Harry didn't remember much about that now, but he was glad he could at least entertain his siblings with his light shows.

It was only later, after dinner and helping the little ones to bed, that Harry laid down and heard the crinkle of his letter. Sitting up, he flicked on the lamp and tugged it out.

"What's that?" Ethan asked, heterochromatic eyes glinting in the low light.

Harry shrugged, dragging a thumb under the seal to break it, "got a letter."

"Can I see?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Ethan padded over with light steps, plopping down next to Harry as he dragged the papers out of their envelope.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL **_**of**_ **WITCHCRAFT **_**and**_ **WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,**_

_**Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list** **of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall**

**Deputy Headmistress**

"Well," Ethan said, "that's… weird. What's a Supreme Mugwump supposed to be?"

Harry laughed, "look, they even included a list of equipment."

His brother snorted, "through little bastard aren't they. Who d'ya think wrote it?"

"Well whoever did managed to tame an owl to deliver letters," Harry said wryly.

"Or maybe they just glued it on a pigeon and you need to get your prescription updated."

Harry tackled his brother, and the two wrestled briefly before someone below them pounded the ceiling for quiet. Ethan tried for one last nuggie, and Harry threw a pillow at his face.

The letter was left forgotten.

Or at least, it would have been, if not for the next day, when Ethan returned from the door with a duplicate. The next day, three year old Benjamin giggled as he forked over three more, then a very confused Emma passed him six.

"What the fuck," Ethan said as a very curious Mary returned with a dozen thick envelopes in that same, green cursive, "that type of paper is expensive. Who's willing to spend this much on a prank?"

Harry just shook his head.

The next day the brothers were woken up early by their father, who regarded them with a frown.

"Harry, d'you know anyone by the name of Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall?"

The brothers glanced nervously at the stack of abandoned envelopes, and Dad's brows furrowed, "yeah, that answers that. How long have you been getting these?"

"Four days," Harry admitted shyly.

Dad scratched his head and sighed, looking annoyed, "yeah alright, I'll see if I can file a harassment claim."

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall didn't exist, and no matter what they tried they couldn't trace the owls back to the source. Annoyed and frustrated, the Fullmetal Alchemist set up spells to keep the owls out, only for the letters to trickle in by other animals.

And then a brown and yellow garter snake delivered a letter, and a breakthrough was made.

See, those of Xerxian descent possess a few key traits. Gold coloring, sharp, chiseled features, and a curious ability to speak with serpents. A language which saved quite a few of the desert dwelling people. Harry, curiously enough, also possessed this trait.

"_~Hogwarts is a magic school on the other side of the Great Barrier,~" _the snake hissed when prompted, "_~if you don't want to go, send a rejection letter.~"_

And so they did.

Of course, by then the family had grown rather grouchy. Free paper was nice, and good for their lessons, but swimming through a solid foot of parchment every morning was starting to piss everyone off. Especially when there were infants and toddlers it could smother or choke.

So when Harry sat down with his parents to write his rejection letter, everyone else had a say they wanted to add. By the time they were done, the letter was a jumbled mess of different handwriting and insults and had been signed by everyone who could reliably write their name.

And at the very bottom, Harry simply wrote.

**No.**

**Harry Potter**

The next messenger to appear was delivered by a sleek black crow, which was passed the letter by a very stern Harry. And as the dark bird took to the air, Harry remembered seeing it go and thinking that was the end of it.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts couldn't be shaken so easily.

* * *

**The owl that delivers the first letter is a stygian owl.**

**Harry's gonna be a little different guys, he's been raised completely differently. He's gonna stay Harry, but a few traits have been added or removed. If that's a deal breaker then pack your bags now.**

**I might write some one shots about the Elric's life raising Harry if there's interest. Hell, I almost did anyway, but I figured that's not what most readers are here for so I cut it.**

**Also you're just going to have to deal with Ethan being a thing, because it's either that or literally only writing letters home and vacations. It's a necessary evil I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

The beginning of the school year was always a headache.

Between the mountains of acceptance letters, organizing finances, and hiring the newest D.A.D.A. teacher, most staff agreed it was one of the busiest times of year next to finals.

So when Minerva brought a letter signed by no less than nine separate names in, Dumbledore could only press his fingers into his temples and sigh.

"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?"

The animingus passed him the letter with a tight frown, "I think it's best you read it yourself."

**Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,**

**Knock it the fuck off. Seriously, we aren't even remotely interested. Your letters are a risk to our family's health at this point. If even one of the children choke on them we will cave your skull in with a spanner and bury you ten feet under the pavement.**

**Edward Elric-Rockbell**

**Winry Elric-Rockbell**

The rest was a series of similar threats and curses, crossed with the occasional polite plea for the letters to quit, and signed in handwriting that varied wildly from neat to sharing the name Elric-Rockbell. Just as he was ready to assume it was some muggle-born who'd slipped the list of in-person visits, he saw the final name.

_Harry Potter._

Dumbledore's eyes widened. _No._ Harry Potter, out of all his students, _had_ to come. Without The Chosen One there'd be no way to kill Tom. To end the war. For the sake of the Wizarding World, Harry _needed _to go to Hogwarts.

Then something else occurred to him. Ten years ago he'd left the boy on the Dursleys' doorstep. All these years later he should _still_ be with the Dursleys. Albus didn't even recognise the name Elric-Rockbell.

Standing up, Dumbledore approached the series of knick knacks lining the walls, picking up the whistling pot that monitored the health of Lily's bloodward. To his horror, he found the dusty object not only wasn't running, but never had in the first place.

Dumbledore may have left Harry Potter on the Dursleys' doorstep, but the boy had never set foot in the house.

The monitor slipped from his fingers, shattering on the stone floor. Minerva made a sound of alarm.

"Albus?"

"I fear," the man rasped, "that Harry may be in grave danger."

"What do you mean," there was a note of warning in her tone, "I thought you said you were looking after him."

Dumbledore shook his head, peering down at McGonagall with a contrite expression, "I thought he was with his relatives, but it seems he was stolen away before Petunia or her husband could take him."

"And it took you ten years to realise this!?" Minerva snapped, "you're his magical guardian, why weren't you visiting the boy?"

"I regret to say it slipped my mind," he responded, bowing his head as Minerva near hissed with disapproval.

"James and Lily would be rolling in their graves," she said with a long sigh through her teeth, "nothing to do about it now I suppose."

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then lay out the letter Harry's duplicates originated from. Albus read over the top, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You ever heard of Amestris?"

"I can't say I have," Albus replied, scanning the address twice more until it was memorized, then slid it back to Minerva.

"I'm not surprised," she said tiredly, "it doesn't exist."

"What?"

"I looked everywhere. I even asked Irma. There's no such thing as Amestris. And on top of that-" Her wand tapped the page, and at once a translation spell Albus hadn't even noticed fell, "what I assume is the Amestrian alphabet doesn't exist either."

Dumbledore said nothing, brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the unknown symbols scrawled over the parchment. Letters were written by an automated magic system, and always in the recipient's best spoken language.

Albus prided himself on his efforts to not just speak to, but understand everyone. Learning as many languages as possible went along with that. But the boxy lettering on the page in front of him matched nothing, human or otherwise, that he'd ever seen before.

Just where in the world was the boy who lived?

* * *

Days passed with no answer, and Dumbledore was at the end of his rope.

Too many sleepless nights on top of his many jobs left his head pounding with a migraine. He didn't know where Harry was or what to do. He couldn't save anyone this way, and already he felt lives slipping through his fingers as his one shot at killing Tom Riddle disappeared.

A tap of a fingernail on wood snapped him out of his stupor, and through blurry vision Albus looked up to see a grinning yellow figure. Settling his set aside glasses back on his crooked nose, Dumbledore watched as the blob cleared into a handsome man of golden hair and eyes, dressed in a neat vest and dress pants.

"Nicholas," Albus breathed, "I wasn't expecting you."

Flamel laughed, "well if I wasn't supposed to come now then I don't know when I should have."

His old master tapped Albus' calendar with his pinkie. Indeed, there was a note for his company scribbled at the bottom of a box.

Dumbledore stared blankly for a moment, then let out a dry huff, "look at me Nick. I'm so distressed I can't even keep the date straight anymore. What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me what's upsetting you," Nicholas replied honestly as the smell of brewing tea filled the room, "can't have my best student dropping dead before I do."

"I'm your only student," Albus noted dryly as he took the painkillers Nicholas thrust at him.

"All the more reason you're the best," two cups hit the table, one for them both, before Nick took a seat, "now tell me what the trouble is."

Albus sighed, dropping his head with a groan, "Nick, I fear I've made a grave mistake."

Flamel made a motion for him to continue, and Dumbledore leaned back with a long sip at his tea, "I was put in charge of a child, so I sent him to his relatives. But… well, a few days ago I found out he never arrived."

Nicholas nodded slowly, "and do you know what happened to him?"

Albus shook his head, "that's the problem. His Hogwarts letter went out just under a week ago and he rejected it. It was addressed in a language I didn't recognise to some place called Amestris- Nick, are you alright?"

Nicholas had gone stiff and pale at the mention of Amestris, gold eyes stretched wide with horror. As Dumbledore turned his attention back on the man he fumbled, dropping the tea cup and staining his front and lap.

He swore in that strange language he refused to teach Albus. Standing up and pressing his hands first together and then to his shirt, the brown stain peeling away and into dust. He spun, and started to pace.

"Amestris, Albus? You're sure?"

"I- yes," Dumbledore stuttered, "I must've read the address a dozen times."

He swore again, a long list tumbling from his lips like a litany. Despite knowing better, Albus quietly interrupted, "Nicholas, do you know where Amestris is?"

His Master scrubbed a hand hard down his face, before covering his eyes as he whispered, "yes."

"Where?" He practically shouted, desperation in his voice, "Nick, how do I find it? How do I find him?"

Flamel whirled on him, gold eyes boring into his with intensity that froze his insides, "Albus, promise me you'll take what I say to your grave."

Albus nodded, and Nick sighed. Then, he started talking.

"I was born in Xerxes, at the time it was a loose collection of cities. There, I founded alchemy by blending the fields of magic and muggle science. I grew cocky, and self assured, and I did something I shouldn't have. By the end, I owned the world's first Philosopher's Stone. I can't tell you how it's made, with any luck the truth will die with me. At least in this world."

"I fled here, a parallel universe sister to my own, and built a new life with Pernelle. Centuries later, a Xerxian man approached me. A monster was building power back home, in a country called Amestris, and he couldn't be allowed to bleed over into your world. So together, we sealed the gateways shut."

He looked up, eyes filled with guilt, "if your kid really is in Amestris, then either my acquaintance won and took down the barriers, or he died and the monster could enter our reality any minute. I don't know which."

Dumbledore was in shock. Any person with sense would doubt Nicholas but-

When he had been younger and first stepped under Flamel's tutelage, he had sometimes wondered if Nicholas had been some kind of alien or unknown magical creature.

He seemed too strange, with his exotic golden coloring and features, and magic so entirely new to the Wizarding World that they had yet to find so much as traces elsewhere. Speaking unknown languages he had good naturedly declined to teach him under the grounds that he would never meet another person who spoke them. A claim that so far proved had proved nothing but true, despite his wide travels.

But the most odd of all had been the day when he had shyly asked Flamel where he came from. The man had thrown his head back, laughed jovially, and told Albus he was as human as they come, ruffled his hair, and sent him off to weed the garden with Pernelle.

But even now, all these years later, what Albus just couldn't forget-

Was that split second before he laughed, when Nick looked at him with nothing but pure _fear._

"I believe you," Albus sighed, "how do we get there?"

* * *

Nicholas cast the translation spell for them once they entered Amestris. Dumbledore trailing after his ageless Master like a duckling after its mother. Hagrid thundered next to them, his great hulking form hopefully enough to deter Harry's foster family from cashing in on any of their threats.

McGonagall, of course, had taken one look at their posse and declared they couldn't be trusted, so three was made into four.

A few directions landed them in a city where almost everyone had entire limbs made from glinting steel. Dumbledore was fascinated by the advanced prosthesis and wondered idly if Moody might want directions into town for a new foot.

Then Albus remembered how intimate any surgery was and dismissed the notion. Moody would sooner eat his remaining foot then let himself get knocked out around strangers.

The building the family housed themselves in was titled Rockbell Automail, and was swarmed with people. The Amestrians gave them a few odd side-eyes, but didn't seem too particularly bothered. Parting easily for the group when asked.

Hagrid couldn't fit through most doorways, but the opening to this particular shop happened to be a garage door, letting the eleven foot man stand inside comfortably.

A blond head peaked at them from just below the counter, large green-gold eyes peering up at them. The owlish eyes blinked, and with a grunt a little girl lifted her face and chest above the table.

"Heya Sirs and Miss!" The six or seven year old grinned, her face covered with freckles, "are ya here to make an appointment?"

"Thank you, but we need to speak with the owners," Minerva responded politely.

The girl frowned, "okay Miss but Mom's busy, why do you need her?"

"Me and Minerva are just here for one of those boring old adult conversations," Dumbledore assured.

The kid's eyes narrowed, looking angry. Internally, Albus cursed his mistake, before the child slowly smiled again.

"Yeah, okay," the child nodded, face carefully polite, "I'll go get Mom."

Then she took in a deep breath, and screamed, "_Ethan!_"

The sound was ear piercing, and all four wixen winced at the volume. Then, there was a series of crashes and bangs, before a door marked 'Employees Only' slammed open. A small boy with gold hair and irises that were half gold, half blue.

"Fucking hell, Emma," the boy sighed, scratching at his shaggy hair, "what's up?"

"_Minerva_ and her friends here want to see Mom."

The boy froze, then slowly turned his attention to the wixen. A slow smile began to spread on his face, "hey guys, d'ya happen to want Dad too?"

"Tha' just be lov'ly," Hagrid grinned before anyone could stop him.

The boy looked delighted, like Christmas had come early. But before Dumbledore could think better of it, Emma had already left to get her mother and father.

Ethan crossed his arms and leaned back to regard them, smirk still firmly in place, "so, you lot get any interesting _letters_ recently?"

Before any of them could respond, a wrench came sailing from the hallway behind him. Impacting Albus' nose and breaking it with a sickening crack.

Ethan just grinned wider just as an outraged woman in grey-green coveralls screamed, "what the hell did I tell you about harassing my children?"

* * *

**Fantastic Beasts is neither canon nor valid. I've only read the main seven books and nothing else matters.**

**Also y'all have been asking and yes, Ed still has alchemy. Yeah there's thematic and story things and men can't play god blah blah blah but we're here to see Ed go mama bear over his kids. I'm not declawing the bear.**


	5. Chapter 5

As Dumbledore crumpled Hagrid swelled. Straightening up and shouting in his booming voice.

"Wha' were tha' for? Dumbledore ain' done nothin' to ye'!"

"You are your 'school' were sending us hundreds of letters a day," she yelled back, "my kids could have been smothered!"

"Tha' don' give ye the right to nearly kill 'im!"

Flamel moved to help his stricken student up, and Minerva glanced around with a hint of nerves as Elric-Rockbell's formerly friendly clientele glared at them with now hostile expressions. Even with Hagrid, she wasn't of the opinion the fight would go in their favor if things got violent.

"Oi!" A man, in his thirties and remarkably similar to Flamel, shouted, "the fuck is going on here?"

Emma stood in front of him, greenish gold eyes glittering with glee at her father's anger. He was muscular, scarred up, sweaty and slightly red with exertion under loose-fitting workout clothing. His golden eyes had taken in the situation in seconds, and were now smoldering with outrage.

But the wixens' attention wasn't on him. Rather, their eyes turned behind him, where two exhausted preteens stood. More specifically, the boy who's dark skin and black hair stuck out like a sore thumb among the gathering family of glittering gold.

Merlin, he looked just like James.

Hagrid evidently thought the same thing, grinning widely and leaving the irate woman alone, "'arry! Ye look jus' like yir father, jus' like I knew ye would."

Harry blinked, his thin, aristocratic features glancing over at the male Elric-Rockbell's hard jawline and wide face for a moment before turning back to Hagrid with a deadpan expression, "That's a new one. I usually hear the opposite."

Ethan snorted, moving past them to grab Harry's birdnest of hair, "let's go wiseass, it's the letter guys."

Harry made a noise of protest, but it was probably more because Ethan was a head shorter than him over any real displeasure.

Dumbledore, who had long since healed his nose, stepped forward to call for the retreating boys, only for the entire crowd to flow between them like a great sea. Blocking his approach.

"One more step," the second, mystery preteen growled. Blue eyes showing more challenge than anyone else in the room, "and I'll feed your shriveled old dick to the dog."

She didn't sound like she was joking.

Minerva reached for her wand, only for her breath to hitch as her fingers closed on empty air. Wide eyes turned to Emma, who was grinning widely as she held up a fist filled with three wands and Hagrid's pink umbrella.

Albus held up both hands, calming the increasing hostility in the crowd.

"Everyone calm down, we're just here to talk."

"We aren't interested in your damn school, old man!" Edward Elric-Rockbell yelled, teeth flashing like a rabid animal, "why are you so interested in my son anyway?"

"He ain' yer son!" Hagrid boomed.

"I don't see you raising him!"

"He's James an' Lily's! Ye kidnapped 'im!"

"You abandoned him in the middle of winter! As far as I'm concerned, you forfeited any rig-"

"_Silence!_"

Heads snapped to Dumbledore, who had one wrinkled hand raised in the air for silence. His blue eyes had lost their twinkle, and he gazed firmly at the people around him.

"Now, I think we all may have gotten off on the wrong foot," he spoke, lowering his arm, "how about we all calm down over a cup of tea?"

The preteen snorted, "and what could you possibly have to say that's worth our time?"

"Don't you think Harry has a right to learn about his heritage?"

Mr. Elric-Rockbell snorted, "it's a fucking school, not his ancestrial homeland."

"Actually, the school one learns magic at is a huge source of pride in Wizard Brittan," Flamel said, finally breaking his silence, "entire family lines will even go as far as modeling their homes and items around their school colors."

Elric-Rockbell stared at Flamel with an unreadable expression. Hoping this was an opening, McGonagall tried her hand at it,"Harry comes from a noble family, he's the last one left now. Even if Hogwarts is off the table, can we at least tell him about that?"

"Can you prove he's from nobility?" Mr. Elric-Rockbell asked.

"If you come to our side of the barrier you can ask any wix and they'll tell you all about the Potter line."

The parents met each other's eyes for a long time. Conversing quietly in minute twitches and gestures, before the husband let out a drawn out sigh.

"This isn't a choice we should be making without Harry," he spoke flatly, turning on his heel and approaching the back door he had entered through, "you coming, Honey?"

"It _is_ a family meeting," she replied, shooing out the playfully outraged clients in a clearly routine manner and following them up.

The upstairs home was more akin to a library than anything else. Giant books reaching sizes larger than her skull were scattered throughout the room, with clumps of chattering children at each one. Kids that weren't reading were sat down with puzzles, broken down machines, or drawing strange occult images Minerva didn't recognise.

Emma vanished from their group immediately, taking her pilfered wands with her. And as their group was directed to a table, McGonagall wondered if that was intentional.

Ethan glanced up at his parents as they entered, expression cross, "why are _they_ here?"

Edward shrugged, "apparently Harry's a noble or something."

The preteen blinked his sectorally heterochromatic eyes, "shit, seriously?"

McGonagall really wanted to admonish the family's language, and at this point holding her tongue was a growing challenge. The parents looked entirely unbothered, of course.

"Harry's in the shower," Ethan was saying, "says Frankie nearly dislocated his jaw."

"He wasn't hit _that _hard," Elric-Rockbell huffed, "he's just dramatic."

The two chatted a little longer about sparring, which McGonagall tuned out to observe the room. Besides the large amounts of books and children's toys, her attention was drawn to the board pinned proudly on the wall.

The bulletin was absolutely _covered_ in magic photographs. Of the family and their children and who she assumed was their friends. Harry was in dozens, grinning like a loon in some and intensely focused in others. Mostly, her attention was drawn to a few in particular.

In one, Harry looked four or five, sitting under a tree late at night. Cupped carefully in his hands, a wandless lumos glowed brightly like a will-o'-the-wisp. Lighting up Harry's entranced face and sparkling in his eyes like he'd plucked one of the stars right out of the sky.

In another, he looked a little older, around eight, with missing teeth and glasses just a little too big. He looked absolutely delighted as a thin snake curled in the air above his open hands, swimming through the air like a sea serpent through water.

Finally, there was one that looked fairly recent. Harry was sat cross legged on the couch, leaning against Ethan with who she now assumed was Frankie perched on the arm. There was a thick book in his lap and half a dozen younger children spilled over the floor around him, and small illusions illustrating some unknown fairytale floating just out of their reach. He was smiling in this one too, but it was smaller. Less ecstatic and more content, like there was no place he'd rather be.

All the occasions seemed to be wandless, and in every picture he was happy. A part of the family despite nearly every feature contradicting theirs. Suddenly, Minerva felt less sure that he needed to be taken away. Bloodwards or not, surely this was better than the Dursleys' abysmal parenting?

The sound of running water stopped, and a moment passed before Harry stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a loose fitting hoodie and sweats. He didn't notice them at first, wiping fog off the lens of his glasses, before he sat them on his nose and froze.

"Uh," he began, then stopped.

Edward gestured to a seat, set as far away from the wixen as possible, "Harry, d'ya mind taking a seat?"

"Yes," the boy-who-lived muttered, padding over to sullenly sit down. Ethan nudged his shoulder with his own, and Harry looked bolstered.

"Apparently your bio parents were fancy nobles," Ethan ribbed lightly, "ya got anything _passed down the Potter line for generations?_"

Harry snorted at the inorganically deep and boisterous voice. Playfully shooting back, "just my good looks and charm."

"Damn, ya must've missed those."

Harry punched his shoulder, and the two laughed.

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling, "it's good to see you're happy here, Harry."

The ten year old's expression soured, letting out a thin sigh, "look old man, I have no interest in your school, and frankly your creepy insistence has only put me off further. In addition, your universe's choice to separate the magic world from mundane life is cultish, and I want no part in it when I can stay here without having to choose between my magic and my life."

Albus looked faintly crushed, but shook his head lightly, "that's not what I came here to discuss, Harry."

And then he began.

* * *

When Dumbledore began his story, Harry was angry. Pissed that the old fuck kept coming back and wouldn't just go away already. Like the word no meant nothing to him. It was infuriating.

Then Harry, who barely knew what his biological parents' names were, was told about their deaths. How they loved him. How they _died_ for him.

And here he was dismissing them for nearly ten years now.

Shit, he felt like such an _ass._

Ethan squeezed his shoulder in comfort, and suddenly, he realized that was their whole game. And he had fallen for their trap hook line and sinker. _Fuck._

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Harry said flatly, face carefully blank, "you wanted to guilt me into going with their deaths."

"Of course that wasn't my-"

"_Cut the shit!_" He yelled, a sudden hatred surging white hot through his veins.

How dare he? _How dare he?_

"Is that all they were to you? Some tool to use? Hanging them on a line like bait before a fish? You scumbag. _You disgust me._"

If there was one thing his adoptive family had taught him, it was respect for the dead. For his lost grandparents. His surrogate Aunt Nina. Hughes, who was like a father to both of them. Buccaneer, Scar's brother, Greed, the list went on.

And here this bastard was using their deaths as a fucking _pawn._

It was _shameful._

But Harry had already fallen into their trap.

"One year," he growled.

Dad's head swung around so quickly his pony nearly smacked into his face. The previously paling Dumbledore looked equally surprised, as well as the woman who had had a sick, dawning comprehension on her face.

Ethan stood up, "Harry! You can't-"

"I'll give their world a chance," Harry said over him, "that would be enough to respect their death, right? One year spent raising me, one year lived in their memory. Equivalent Exchange."

His brother looked down, gritting his teeth with upset, before looking back up to him, "then I'll go too. We'll do it together. Just like always."

Harry gave him a grateful look, and Dad spoke up, "are you sure about this?"

He nodded, and his father sighed, "Then I won't stop you."

Harry and Ethan met each other's gaze, determination mirroring itself between the two.

They were going to Hogwarts.

* * *

**I should probably mention. There's gonna be a ton of LGBT+ rep in this story. It's gonna take a while, because the pov characters are mostly children, but it'll show. If that's a problem- Well, frankly if it's a problem then you aren't welcome here in the first place. Off you trot.**

**Also y'all better be grateful because this chapter fuckin bit. Took me three rewrites to wrangle it into a presentable state.**


	6. Chapter 6

That night the Earthen Wixen stayed the night in their magically expanded house, the old man and woman set to leave early the next morning. The eleven foot tall asshole and the bastard who looked Xerxian would stay behind to help them find Diagon Alley.

When Harry broke the news that their oldest brothers were leaving, the children had had a fit. Even the news it was only for nine months didn't seem to help, and seemed to only fuel the children's hatred of the wixen. The family was awoken no less than three times that night to separate pranks, ranging from ice water to several toads stuffed in their bed.

Breakfast in the morning was a very tense affair, everyone pointedly speaking languages the Gaians couldn't decipher. Dad never looked away from Flamel, as if working something out. That was, until they met eyes and Dad said, in perfect Xerxian, "pass the salt."

Nicholas didn't even think before forking over the seasoning, and immediately Dad looked smug. Like he'd caught him in a lie.

Later, Mom called arranged for her wife to help her watch the kids, and corralled her husband and eldest sons out the door along with the remaining wizards. Harry waved goodbye to her and Paninya as they were mobbed by toddlers and adolescents.

The trip to the rip took a day, and as the group passed through the doorway Harry noted it felt a little bit like missing a step on a staircase, or that falling sensation he sometimes got just before he fell asleep that would jerk him rudely back into awareness. He stumbled on his landing, Dad's hand whipping out to steady his shoulder.

They checked out a dingy little room at an inn somewhere on Earth, and the wixen slipped quietly into their own. Leaving the three to divy up their own. Of the two beds, Dad chose the one closest to the door. Leaving Ethan and Harry with the bed pushed up against a wall.

"You know," Harry said quietly, "I think tomorrow is my birthday."

Ethan rolled over to face him. In the dark room, the dark blue in his sectorally heterochromatic eyes seemed to bleed like ink over the shining gold, "you gonna do anything for it?"

He shook his head, brushing some of the strands out of his eyes, "no. Already had our birthday."

Ethan grinned wryly. Ever since they were kids, the two had insisted on pooling their birthdays. In comparison to their shared party day, neither tended to really remember the actual dates for anything except legal documents.

Still, "happy birthday anyway, Hare."

"Boys." Their father grunted moodily, causing his sons to chuckle lightly as they turned away from each other to sleep.

.Harry dreamed that night. Dreamed of his parents, except they looked like they'd had their pallets swapped. Dad still had his strong jaw, and stocky build, and Mom's rounded eyes and perky nose stayed constant. But now their hair was that dark, inky black, and their eyes glowed green behind two pairs of glasses.

They called themselves James and Lily, and Harry watched as they threw themselves between him and a monster that looked like old pictures he'd seen of the homunculi, before Dad slammed the drawer shut and grounded him for snooping.

James attacked, and Harry saw the monster unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole. Lily grabbed him and ran, only for the monster to slowly turn and open it's gaping maw one last time and _inhale._

Harry saw darkness, and woke up in a cold sweat. For a moment, he wondered where he was, the thing's stomach? Or was he alive, spat out onto the ground like a bitter pill?

He turned sluggishly over, and saw his father sat at the inn's writing desk, scribbling in his notebook. Dad looked up as he felt Harry's eyes on him, lips twitching as he turned to smile indulgently at his child.

"Nightmare?"

"Something like that," he yawned, "where's Ethan?"

Dad adopted a high pitched and feminine voice, "'I'm too hungry to wait for him! I'm off to get breakfast.'"

A pastry sailed through the hair to hit their father over the head. Smearing glaze through his hair like a bad potion, "I don't sound like that."

"'I don't sound like that,'" Dad mocked petulantly as he alchemically cleaned his hair, a process that often left it frizzy.

Harry snorted, and Ethan set aside his plate, "alright wiseguy, those are fighting worlds."

"Bring it," Dad announced, standing up as Ethan charged.

It wasn't real sparring. Or very dignified at all really. The two rolled around wildly, with more focus on pinning the other than any real desire to incapacitate. Dad clearly wasn't trying very hard, because quickly into the fight Ethan managed the upper hand.

Then Dad rolled over hard, landing with his knees on either side on his son's waist. Grinning evilly, he began to tickle him. Ethan squealed, thrashing and bellowing as he lost air with the force of his laughter.

"Stah-Stop!" He begged, tears forming in his eyes, "I cah- can't breathe!"

Dad's fingers moved away from Ethan's ribs, only for the boy to roll roughly onto his stomach. Hand lashing out to wrap around Harry's ankle and tug him into the group. Dad rocked back as he caught him, and Ethan darted out from under his father.

"Traitor!" Harry yelled, tackling him from behind.

Teeth closed around the meat of his hand, and Harry jerked back at once, "did you just bite me?!"

"All's fair in love and war!" Was Ethan's gleeful reply as he fell on his pseudo twin with wriggling fingers, causing Harry to writhe and snort with laughter.

The family wrestled like that for a while, until the Englishmen returned for them. The family froze where Ethan had his arm around his father's throat while Harry tickled him. The three sprang apart, Harry tripping on his father's leg and nearly eating shit.

Hagrid's frisbee sized hand latched onto his hoodie, keeping him on his feet, "alright there, 'arry?"

"I'm fine," he replied, stepping a few feet away from the man.

Hagrid's face fell, and Harry almost felt bad. Almost.

"We're off to Diagon," Hagrid continued, "but we're stopping for breakfast first."

Dad nodded, shouldering on his brown trench coat and leaving with Ethan so Harry could hastily get dressed. As he ran to catch up, Ethan turned to grin at him.

"So what do you think a purely wizard society would be like?"

Harry thought for a moment, before answering, "loud. Like sensory overload on steroids. Everyone wants you to see their shop or tourist trap or whatever, so they're going to go all out on flashing lights and animated characters, right?"

Ethan seemed to consider that, before replying, "I think everything's going to be floating."

"How'd they even hide that?" Harry laughed.

Ethan winked conspiratorially, "magicians never tell."

He shoved him, and Ethan pushed him back, and the two snickered when their Dad called them a couple of chucklefucks.

The inn's main room was a lot fuller than the night before, robed wixen at tables in the back and lined up at the counter. The bartender, Tom, was wiping a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag, and next to them Harry saw his father's nose wrinkle.

"Hagrid, I don't think we should eat here," he began, only for the half-giant to brush him off.

"Nonsense, Tom's as fine a cook as any," he grinned, patting Harry's father hard on the back, causing him to nearly fall over.

"That's not-"

"Hagrid!" Tom said, "you- Merlin."

His eyes had gone wide, fixed on Harry like he'd seen a ghost, "is that- Harry Potter?"

The entire pub went silent, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, "um, yes-"

Immediately, there was a large clatter as everyone in the room climbed to their feet and practically sprinted towards him. Blood running cold, Harry's instincts jerked hard towards his father's training. As did Ethan's apparently, because as his fingers curled tight around a chair and threw it outwards with a crash, his brother swept the feet out from under the other side. Their father simply pinning the last few in a thumb lock.

"What the hell," he was yelling, "who are you? And where do you get off attacking my sons?"

"W-We just w-want-wanted to m-m-meet t-t-t-the g-gr-great H-Harry P-P-Potter!" The man in the thumb lock practically sobbed. He was wearing a turban, and Hagrid quickly moved forward to release him from their father's wrath.

"Edward," he was saying, hands held out placatingly, "Quirrell just wanted to meet 'arry, 'onest. There's no need for tha'."

"You know him?" Dad asked, pulling the lock tighter until Quirrell's arm creaked ominously.

"He's the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he's harmless."

Dad glared at him for a bit, before reluctantly releasing the trembling professor from his pin. Quirrell stood up and ran into the crowd immediately, terrified out of his wits.

"Mob either one of my sons again and I'll do a lot worse than that," Dad warned, turning on his heel for a dramatic entrance that Harry barely kept from snickering at. There's only so many times you can see a grown man sob over a sticky, screaming newborn before he ceases being intimidating.

The group followed him out, finding him in front of a brick wall with a focused frown on his face. Before Harry could say anything, Hagrid had already moved past them and began tapping the wall with his umbrella. The pattern seemed specific, and when Hagrid confirmed it, the family memorized it.

Nothing in Diagon Alley was floating, but it also wasn't quite the eyesore Harry had imagined. It was loud, and it was bright, yes, but it wasn't seizure inducing. People bustled down the cobbled streets in droves, speaking in English so fast it made Harry's head spin. Owls, cats and snakes weaved through the chaos, odd assortments of herbs and remedies hung inside windows, and children chased one another and huddled by a window with a broom (?) in the window.

Harry approached the group, curiosity getting the better of him.

"-the Nimbus 200-"

"-fastest model yet-"

"-too expensive-"

He glanced up at the broomstick, and found he didn;t understand the apparent hype. What did they want to do quickly? Chores?

"Harry?"

He turned to where Ethan was standing with Dad, his brother smirking, "you coming space cadet?"

Harry nodded, jogging to catch up with the group.

"So where we going first?" Harry asked, now level with the group.

"Gringotts, Wizard Bank," Dad responded, then pointed ahead to where, several shops away, a tall white building stood.

It reflexed the sun like a mirror, and hurt Harry's eyes a bit, but it looked every bit the official building it was. Looming ahead like a great white gollum.

Ethan furrowed his brows, "Gringotts… what's that, Gobbledygook?"

"That's the one," Flamel said softly where he was walking alongside them.

Ethan frowned petulantly, "I don't speak Gobbledygook."

Harry snorted, "it was hardly at the top of our priority list. We're just lucky we learned English."

Hagrid looked faintly surprised, "English ain't yer fir- oh, of course it 'aint. Don't worry yerselves none, the Goblins speak English fine."

The pseudo twins snickered a little at the first part, and soon the quintet reached the bank. Two Goblins stood at either side of the silver doors, and engraved upon them was a poem.

_**Enter, stranger, but take heed**_

_**Of what awaits the sin of greed**_

_**For those who take, but do not earn,**_

_**Must pay most dearly in their turn.**_

_**So if you seek beneath our floors**_

_**A treasure that was never yours,**_

_**Thief, you have been warned, beware**_

_**Of finding more than treasure there.**_

"Dramatic," Dad muttered.

"Goblins are fearsome creatures, and guard the bank most viciously," Flamel commented as he led them into the ginormous, open room, "one of the safest places in the world I'd imagine."

"'Sides Hogwarts, of course," Hagrid added.

"Besides Hogwarts," Nicholas agreed, seemingly just to placate him.

They approached a counter, where a Goblin was observing a shining ruby, "What?"

"We're 'ere to see the vaults of 'arry Potter."

The Goblin's tiny eyes finally turned to them, "key?"

Hagrid shuffled in his moleskin coat for a moment, before retrieving a shining gold key. Dad frowned, "why do you have that?"

"Dumbledore gave it to me so we could see 'arry's vault."

"Why did Dumbledore have it?"

"He's 'arry's magical guardian."

"We need to change that, can we change that?" He directed this next question to the Goblin, who only sneered at them.

"Yes, for a fee. Would you also like to observe the current state of the Potter titles and estates?"

"That would be appreciated, yes."

"And the Hohenheim vaults?"

Dad went very, very still, "Hohenheim vaults?"

The Goblin seemed unbothered, "yes, you are of his bloodline, aren't you?"

He nodded, stiffly, "yes. I suppose we could see those too."

Finally, the Goblin stepped back and turned to another, speaking in rapid Gobbledygook before the group was led away for the most boring event in Harry's entire lifetime. Seriously, he thought he would die by the time the seemingly meaningless legal jargon stopped, and Ethan was barely any better.

Being an heir _sucked._

* * *

**I know I'll get questions with this so: Ed and Winry are married. Winry and Paninya are also married. Ed knows and doesn't care. Paninya knows and doesn't care. Ed and Paninya are not dating. Paninya is a lesbian and thinks Ed is ugly. She's not wrong.**

**Also my biggest problem with the actual books was that I never really believed the main trio were really friends. They were always so nasty to each other. So I want you guys to know my main goal in this story is to make you absolutely certain these characters love and cherish one another, petty squabbles or no. I mean, if there's one thing the Elric-Rockbell family understands, it's the concept of "ride or die."**


	7. Chapter 7

"And do you want to change his name?" Griphook droned on.

"No-"

Harry, who had been zoning out since the first hour, suddenly snapped back into awareness, "Yes!"

Dad looked at him with surprise. Years ago, Harry had denied the name change, desiring to keep some connection with his birth parents. But seeing as he was about to give their world a try, not to mention all the titles he'd just inherited, Harry figured he could finally let them go.

Besides, "if they're going to mob me everytime someone says my name then we'd better nip it in the bud now."

Dad blinked, but then grinned, "sure kid."

One changed name later, and Harry Elric-Rockbell was finally heading for the vaults with a skip in his step.

"I can't believe you have a fancy smancy middle name," Ethan was grumbling, "what the hell, you used to draw dicks on my face and you have a fucking _middle name._"

Harry cackled, "middle names have been passed down the Potter line for generations."

Ethan glared at him, but it was good natured so Harry didn't take it personally.

Hagrid looked confused, "do ye' not 'ave middle names in Amestris?"

Dad shook his head, "we do, but it's a status symbol. Typically only people with a lot of money and power use them."

"Yer not allowed to 'ave them?" He asked as they climbed in a minecart at a dock in a dark tunnel. Loading into the cart, Griphook gave a rather token warning about hands and feet inside the ride and the group took off.

"We are," Ed yelled over the whooping yells of his sons, "there's nothing stopping us. It's just a cultural thing."

Hagrid didn't ask anymore questions, too busy trying not to vomit.

The ride was _fast._ Rocketing through so many twists and turns Harry lost track of the way back in minutes. Their group jerked left then right, and completed loops and spins as the air slowly grew colder. At a few points Harry would catch sight of a plume fire or the shine of water before finally the track came to a sudden and jolting stop.

Stumbling out a little dizzily, Harry watched as the Goblin ran one of its long fingers over the door, melting it instantly. Griphook turned back, nasty grin on it's greyish face, "anyone but a Gringotts Goblin try that, and they'd be sucked in and left to die."

Dad frowned, "do ya tell everyone that or do we just look particularly sketchy?"

Griphook just grinned wider, and Harry noticed their teeth were as sharp as needles, "it never hurts to let a newcomer know how we deal with thieves."

Dad didn't look very impressed, or happy for that matter. Harry grabbed Ethan's wrist and tugged him into the vault, which was overflowing with gold, silver, and bronze.

Ethan let out a low whistle, speaking in the hodgepodge of languages their family liked to speak when not in company, "and this is just the Trust Vault. Potters must have been loaded."

"Guess they really want me to have the best education possible," Harry muttered, nudging one of the shining piles with the toe of his boot.

The two got to work shoveling the money into a couple of magically enlarged wallets, splitting a good number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts between the two.

When the brothers left vault 687, they found the adults waiting in tense silence. Dad looked distinctly angry, and Harry assumed their argument didn't go well. He decided he hated Griphook on principle, shooting him a dirty look as he entered the cart.

They stopped twice more. The first time Flamel climbed out of the cart to pick up a small, dingy package from an otherwise empty vault. Curiosity sparked for a split second at the sight of the small twine wrapped package, before the sudden acceleration banished all questions from his mind.

Wind whipped his hair, and beside him Ethan let out an excited squeal before the track came to a screeching halt. Harry rocked forward hard, and the steel rim dug hard enough into his abdomen to bruise.

"Mother_fucker,_" he wheezed as Ethan cackled, and Dad climbed out of the cart towards the Hohenheim vault. Harry turned to observe the door, only for his eyes to go wide.

There on the wall, a transmutation circle was carved. It looked complicated, and though Harry wasn't advanced enough to read it, he could at least tell it was a dangerous array.

"...Dad?" Ethan said softly, eyes wide enough to confirm Harry's theory.

He grunted, "stay back. This circle is rigged to drop us in a pit if we don't open it right."

The brothers watched as he clapped his hands together, pressing them to the door in a bright flash so eyestraining Harry had to look away and cover his eyes. Something made a noise like a hundred screaming cats, or a thousand forks scraping against plates. Harry shivered on reflex, and then it stopped.

Looking up through cautiously squinted eyes, and found the stone had indeed melted away. Inside, Harry could see money lumped in large, pushed aside piles, but his attention was really on the books. Countless books. Old, new, printed, handwritten, dusty and clean. Scrolls littered the shelves written in all kinds of languages, and marks over the spines and shelves warned curses if you touched.

"Holy shit," Ethan whispered, "forget the school, leave us here for nine months."

Harry was similarly enchanted. It was hard to be an Elric-Rockbell without also being a bibliophile. As Dad thumbed through a few of the books, he looked fascinated by the contents.

"I'm going to bring Al here later," he finally announced, "but for now…"

He turned on his heel, two of the better in tact books under his arm. He handed one to each of his sons, and Harry carefully turned the book on its back, feeling blasphemous just for touching the old thing without gloves.

**Magic And Meditation As It Relates To The Dragon's Pulse**

The book looked handwritten, was in Xerxian, and was signed at the end by a '_Paracelus.' _Faintly, he even recognised the scrawl. Looking over at Ethan's journal, he found it written in the exact same handwriting under the same pen name, though his was about alchemy.

**Magic made Science; The Roots of Xerxian Alchemy**

Dad tapped Ethans book lightly, "Hohenheim went under the pseudonym Paracelus while in the wizarding world. The man's a bastard, and a garbage father, but his research should keep you from falling too far behind your siblings."

The brothers tackled their father in a tight hug, and the three climbed back into the cart with face-splitting grins.

By the time the group set foot outside the bank, Harry and Ethan were already engaged in a heated conversation about alchemy vs. alkahestry. An old argument from Harry's younger days, when his out of control magic required Al and Aunt Mei to teach him meditation, snaring him as a alkahestris hopeful in the process, much to his father's chigrin.

It was nearly noon, and as Edward checked his watch he sighed, "that took longer than we thought. Tell you what, we'll pick up your trunks first and then set you loose in the bookstore while we pick up lunch for everyone. Sounds good?"

Nobody had any arguments, so they veered off course to the necessary shop. There, the family spent another half hour debating the merits of this or that trunk, before settling on getting two with a few built in rooms. One, a small library, the second a closet, the third a room for potions ingredients, and the last an empty room for anything.

"You could live in one of these things," Dad muttered, somewhat bewildered.

"If I'm going to be loaded, then I might as well use it," Harry responded dryly, "'sides, considering it's _us _we're probably going to buy out the bookstore."

A few minutes later, the duo had been let loose into _Flourish and Blotts, _where they both collected first their required books, then raided the selves for any particularly interesting reads. By the time the adults returned with food, they had collected over a dozen extra books between them, involving everything from books on culture, to history, to magical theory. The two had even discovered an alchemy book so horrifically wrong they decided to buy it for a laugh.

The five breaked for lunch, and Harry sampled British food. The lack of any spicy flavors and over abundance of sweets gave him mixed feelings, but he did find he really enjoyed the treacle tart.

The family took care to use only English, and Harry found his accent growing thicker as his attention moved to eating. Luckily, the Englishmen didn't seem to mind.

Hagrid was stupid, and loyal to a fault, but his heart was so big and gooey Harry wondered if it caught leaves. His hair was thick, and it didn't look like he often groomed or bathed. Absently, he wondered if that was by choice or if it was just that hard to find a shower that can fit someone eleven feet tall.

Flamel, on the other hand, was sleek, tall, and elegant. His hair was worn long and in a tail, and he rarely spoke. Dad would often give him long, unreadable looks, and Harry knew he was waiting for a moment the two were alone to confront him.

So as the meal wrapped up and the five men headed towards _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ Harry shoved the shopping list into his father's hands.

"We're going to take a week at this pace," he announced, "go get the cauldron and potions supplies, will you?"

Ethan glanced at him, before understanding dawned and he turned to Dad, "take Flamel, he should know which items have more quality. Hagrid will keep an eye on us."

Dad looked at first bewildered, but caught on quickly, herding Flamel away with the list and one of the boy's coin bags in hand. Meanwhile, a rather confused Hagrid led them down an opposite lane to _Madam Malkin's._

"So what was that fire in Gringotts?" Ethan began in an attempt for conversation.

Hagrid looked startled, then elated, "'t was a dragon. Wanted one of those since I was a kid."

Well, Ben wanted a grizzly bear. Harry hummed instead, "is that really healthy for the dragon?"

"Yeah, isn't there some reaction people have to being underground for too long? They get all bothered?" Ethan added.

Hagrid looked unsure, "well- I would assume the goblins take good care of 'im-"

"The same guys who let thieves starve to death in their vaults? Somehow I don't see them as the caring type."

The half giant looked unsettled, and the conversation dropped. It was just as well though, because it didn't look like Hagrid would be able to fit through the door.

Madam Malkin, a squat woman wearing mueve, smiled at them, "Hogwarts?"

At their nod, the two were swept onto a few stands and asked to hold still. Measuring tapes few on all sides, collecting the lengths of their limbs and torsos while Malkin fit the fabric to them. She worked quickly and silently, until at one point her eyes found Harry's scar and gasped.

"You're Harry Potter-"

"Elric-Rockbell, actually," he corrected with a swell of pride, "is that how people recognise me? My scar?"

She nodded, clearly trying to be professional. Harry sighed, "in that case can I get a few articles of headwear that cover it? Like a bandana, or a headband? Oh! And we'll need a couple leather gloves that reach the elbow."

Madam Malkin agreed, and by the time the two had left, he had a brand new bandana wrapped and tied around his head, keeping his hair away from his eyes and, more importantly, covering the scar.

"You look just like Mom," Ethan was saying, when they noticed the yelling.

Feet away, a crowd was clumped, and everyone in it was screaming. Moving quickly, the boys slid past them to find out what the problem was.

There, in the dirt, was Flamel and Dad. They were engaged in a fist fight, and as the twins heard their father's snarl they knew he was _pissed._

So, they did the only logical thing to do in this situation.

They started to cheer.

"Kick his ass, Dad!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

* * *

**Literally no Amestrians have middle names except for the noble ones, so I'm working under the assumption it's a sign of wealth, status and power for them.**

**Also, for reference: Harry is desi, and though she isn't in this chapter, Hermione will be biracial with a black father and white mother. Xerxians are a fictional race and I treat them as such, with a culture I made up based mostly on Greece, but I mostly base their features around Native Americans in the area now referred to as the Southern US.**


	8. Chapter 8

Maybe it was the sound of yelling that attracted him, or possibly it was the sound of the brothers' chanting, but Dad had barely gotten to break Flamel's collarbone before Hagrid had appeared to haul them off each other. He held them apart by the scruff like irate cats, though Dad was the only one hissing and spitting.

"What in Merlin's name is goin' on 'ere!?" He bellowed as the bloodspattered men swung suspended from his hands.

Dad didn't answer, instead spitting in Nick's face before speaking in heated Xerxian.

"You bastard. You sick fucker. I'll knock you out, just wait-"

Ethan stiffened, and next to him, Harry gave him a curious glance. Shakily, he pointed to Flamel's collar.

The bone was whole.

Harry furrowed his brow, clearly trying to make sense of the sight. They'd seen his father snap it, heard it crack, so _why-_

A thin tendril of red lightning sparked, and the redness on Flamel's cheek faded.

Ethan felt sick.

Then Harry disappeared out from under his hand. Impulsively running straight up to Flamel. Hagrid started to say something, but neither was listening as Harry drew a kunai, a birthday gift from Aunt Mei, and slashed Nicholas across the face.

Blood spurted, but Ethan wasn't focused on that. Instead, he watched in horror as Nicholas' face knit itself right back together. Soon, horror turned to disgust, and disgust into rage, and suddenly, he wanted Harry to shove the knife deep into the monster's chest and _twist._

Instead he spun, and quick as a cobra striking, he had slashed Hagrid across the hand. As the half giant reeled and dropped his cargo, Harry took his father in hand and dragged him away.

"We'll be doing the rest of our shopping _alone._"

Dad eventually gained enough presence of mind to guide his sons back to their potions ingredients. He had even gone ahead and collected the telescope too, which was nice, and Ethan thanked him, but Harry was too busy stewing to really care.

"**[You're thinking too much,]**" Ethan finally said in Amestrian, "**[we can't kill him, at least not in public anyway, and he's famous here besides. Just leave him be.]**"

"**[I hate that!]**" Harry shouted, "**[We're just letting him get away with it! I hate it!]**"

"**[He's had the stone for six hundred years,]**" Dad replied, "**[and he's from another dimension. Who'll believe us?]**"

Harry had no answer to that, and sulked. Ethan frowned, ever since he was a kid, Ethan's brother had had a nasty habit of sticking his nose in every problem he came across. A problem that only got worse every time his siblings had to pull him out of the fire.

After a moment, his father nudged his shoulder, "**[hey kid, after we get your wands, let's go get that owl you wanted. How about that?]**"

It was little comfort, but it was something, and so Harry agreed.

The wand shop they chose was under the name _Ollivander's_, and apparently had been running since 382 BC, which might've been impressive had any of the Elric-Rockbells known the first thing about Britain's calendar.

Dad grinned, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve a camera. Laughing as his sons groaned accordingly, "**[What? You kids didn't really expect me not to photograph your first wands?]**"

They did, but he didn't have to be so smug about it.

A bell rang as they stepped inside, and the first thing Ethan noticed was the clutter. Towering stacks of wand boxes were everywhere, arching over them enough to touch the ceiling, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust.

Hagrid had called this place the best in the business, so how was everything so filthy? Unless Ollivander was in the habit of casting spells to make it that way? Why? For the aesthetic?

"Good Afternoon."

The family jolted, each falling into a defensive stance as their eyes roved the shelves for their attacker. There, was a thin and doddering old man, with wispy grey hair and owlish grey eyes. Everything about him was done in white, like a spectre.

"Hello," their father answered, "we're here for two wands."

"Yes," he responded, eyes not leaving Harry, "I knew I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

He stepped closer, an Ethan watched as his brother tensed, "It seems only yesterday I sold your mother her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Though your father favored a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, a little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He reached out a thin finger, shifting the bandana up to touch Harry's lightning scar, "and that, that's where… I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he continues softly, "Thirteen and a half inches, yew, powerful wand, very powerful… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

Harry was beginning to look a little cornered, and Ethan stepped in front of his brother, chin set as he slapped the old man's hand away, "_Brother,_ goes by Elric-Rockbell now, actually. Touch him without his permission again and I'll break your wrist."

The old man blinked at him, pale eyes staring into his very soul, "I'm sorry," he finally says, "but I don't recognize you at all."

"We aren't from around here," Dad replied, golden eyes watching the old man warily.

"Gregorovitch?"

"No."

"Can I see your wand?"

From its holster, Dad retrieved his wand. The golden shean of wood well cared for. As Ollivander took it, he seemed impressed, "hornbeam, thirteen inches, sturdy, and the core?"

"Thunderbird feather."

He nodded, and handed the wand back to Dad, who holstered it. He turned his attention to Harry, "Mr. Elric-Rockbell, was it? What's your wand arm?"

Ethan's brother wordlessly offered his right, stiffly keeping the old man in his sight as he shuffled off into the piles of boxes. A measuring tape moved to catalog every inch of his brother, from his arms to the length of the space between his nostrils. All the while, the family kept their eyes on Ollivander.

He came lumbering back with a box, "Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, flexible. Just wave it around."

Harry glances at him as he takes the wand, before waving it. He stiffens again as Ollivander snatches it away, handing him another, "Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, whippy, try—" Harry barely touches it before it too is snatched away by the old man. "No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

As they got further along, things began to burst and explode with the shake of the wands, startling the family again and again until their father had to leave or risk a flashback. Handing Ethan the camera on the way out.

Harry began to frown, and Ethan took a seat in a thin chair by the door. The wands mounted higher and higher, all the while Ollivander grew more excited. Finally, the old man stopped, and Ethan heard his ghostly voice whisper, "Could it be…?"

He craned his head, but only saw the man's back as he disappeared behind a shelf, quickly returning with a single, thin box. His footsteps were silent as he approached them, before slowly offering it up.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Routinely, Harry plucked the wand from its box, only for his expression to change entirely. Flicking the wand, Ethan tensed for the bang. Instead, the wand began to glow a pretty blue, a warm gust of air swirling through the room. Harry's eyes grew wide, the wind moving his hair and the light reflecting in his eyes in parallel to the first controlled magic he'd ever done. Quickly, Ethan snapped a picture.

The click pulled the trio out of the moment, and Ollivander shuffled closer, "curious, how curious."

Harry blinked at him, "what? Spit it out."

Ollivander shook his wrinkled head, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Elric-Rockbell. Every single wand. And it just so happens that the phoenix who's tail feather lies in that wand gave one other, just one other."

He swallowed, pale eyes unblinking, "it is very curious indeed that you should be destined for that wand when its brother gave you that scar."

Ethan reached out, swiping his brother away, "knock it off old man!"

Ollivander shook his head, turning away, "we must expect great things from you, Elric-Rockbell. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, but great."

Ethan snarled at him, but ultimately decided it was best to just get the whole thing over with. The brothers switched positions, Ethan handing Harry the camera as he allowed the measuring tools to fly around his body.

Harry seemed a little dazed, eyes a tad cloudy as he waited for Ethan to find his wand. It was another hour and a half of flicking, swishing, and shaking magic sticks before they started to get closer. Floorboards exploding, boxes knocked off the shelves, starting a few fires, the works.

When Ollivander left for a solid minute, Ethan and Harry glanced at each other wordlessly. Wondering if the old man left. Just as they were about to shout after him, he returned with a box held tightly in his grasp.

"Mahogany, wampus hair, twelve inches, firm."

Ethan's fingers curled around the wood, and immediately he felt a warm rush up his arm, like the wand was greeting and mingling with his magic. Somehow sure this was the one, he gave it a wave, and watched with wide-eyed awe as he was enveloped in a warm glow. Clear water running around him in a floating river before the camera clicked and it fell to the floor with a splash.

Dad was waiting outside for them when they left, and with a lopsided grin, he let them babble their tale as he led them to the pet store.

_Eeylops Owl Emporium,_ despite its name, housed much more than just owls. Though the birds were housed front and center, held in cages that felt too small and made Ethan frown. What was with England and mistreating their service animals?

Harry looked similarly displeased, and as he and father began discussing owls, Ethan slunk off to see the other animals.

They were smushed together, cages upon terrariums upon kennels. The air was filled with shrieking, meowing, barking, and all kinds of other noises. But despite the cramped quarters and loud environment, Ethan still heard the hiss deep within the store. Ducking and dodging shelves and displays, he finally came upon a terrarium.

It was pathetic. A thin sheet of sand laid over the floor, and a branch and water bowl had been haphazardly thrown in, but that was it. There, a grey snake that was just a little too big for the enclosure was pacing- or rather slithering- the space.

Ethan frowned, "_~are you alright?~_"

The serpent startled, looking over at him with a hiss, "_~oh J__ör__, you startled me! My name is Hasani, speaker.~_"

He nodded, crouching down to be Hasani's level, "_~My name is~_ Ethan."

Hasani's scaled face scrunched in concentration, before making a noise much like a hissing inhale (Heeee) followed by a drawn out exhale (Thhhaaaaan).

He blinked in surprise, before grinning, "_~There you go, you got it!~_"

Hasani made a little bouncing motion of pride, before scooching a little closer to the glass separating them, "_~not that I don't appreciate the company, it does get terribly lonely here, but I do wonder if there was anything you needed?~_"

Ethan shook his head, "_~you looked troubled. I wanted to help.~_"

Hasani paused, then sighed, "_~just stir crazy. Snakes shouldn't be cooped up like this! I want to slither freely! Hunt again! Like when I was a hatchling…~_"

Hasani looked downtrodden, and suddenly Ethan had an idea, "_~I could take you with me.~_"

The snake jerked in surprise, and he quickly explained, "_~you can move freely around my family's house, nearly all of them are speakers, and the weather is warm more often than not. You just have to deal with a few months before we move back.~_"

The snake hissed, flashing the inside of his pitch black mouth, "_~I am not a pet! I am noble, and distinguished, and- and- and not a pet!~_"

"_~I never said you were,~_" Ethan replied, doing damage control, "_~I was proposing a partnership. We'd be companions. Equals.~_"

"_~Companions,~_" Hasani hissed, rolling the word around in his mouth, "_~I think I'd like that, Heathen.~_"

Ethan grinned wryly at the accent. Harry was going to give him so much shit.

He lowered his arm into the terrarium, and Hasani slithered up the limb, curling around his shoulders and neck. Head lifted proudly into the air, which was probably supposed to be majestic but just looked stupidly cute due to the way Hasani's facial structure curved his lips into a permanent, goofy smile.

As Ethan weaved his way back to the store counter, he found Harry had already found his owl. She was a snowy, with a large white figure and a flurry of black spots. Her yellow eyes matched the Elric gold exactly, and shinned with the same stubborn intelligence.

He smiled wryly, of course Harry would pick her. His little brother was a sentimental thing, though he would deny it.

Dad caught sight of him, and by extension Hasani, as the two stepped into the light. He sighed, "**[I thought we were just getting an owl?]**"

"**[He wanted to be free,]**" Ethan replied, "**[and I don't mind letting him hang around my shoulders if he wants to.]**"

Dad rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything the shopkeeper let out a panicked gasp.

"Kid, that snake is venomous-!"

"He won't bite me," Ethan said, slightly offended, "we're friends."

"That doesn't change the fact he is a very dangerous magical breed of black mamba-"

"Yeah," Ethan said, rolling his eyes, "that's why I _asked_ him before picking him up."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Dad growled, "_~you aren't going to bite my son are you?~_"

Hasani hissed in offense, "_~we're companions! He told me so himself! I would not bite my friend!~_"

"There, see?" He grunted at the man, "can we get this over with now?"

The shopkeeper looked deathly pale, and nodded quickly. Forking over the supplies needed for both animals and snatching the galleons like he was afraid of touching them. As the door slammed behind them, he locked it.

"**[Rude fucker, ain't he?]**" Dad grunted, before leading his sons away.

Harry had reluctantly put the newly named Hedwig back in her cage on account of the crowds. Turning to Hasani, he curiously hissed, "_~the shopkeep said you were magical? What can you do?~_"

Hasani's black tongue tested the air, turning equally dark eyes on Harry, "_~I can slip in and out of shadows. If I try hard enough I can take things with me, but it's tiring.~_"

"_~How much mass can you take at once?~_" Dad questioned.

"_~Depends on how long it needs to be in the shadow. I could thesably take a human, if the trip was under a minute long.~_"

The two engaged in conversation further, but the brothers grew bored in favor of talking to each other in a much more asinine argument about whether flight or shadow travel was more efficient.

"**[Well in shadow travel nothing can get you.]**"

"**[Yeah, well I wouldn't want to take a trip anywhere that can be destroyed with a **_**flashlight.**_**]**"

"**[A flashlight can hit a bird too if you throw it hard enough.]**"

Harry shoved him, and the two laughed. Until their father snapped his fingers a few times to get their attention.

Around them, the crowd had parted. Spacing as far away from each of the family as possible and shooting them suspicious glances. Absently, Ethan wondered what faux pas they had stubbled on that was viewed as worse than a public fist fight.

"**[Let's go home. Now.]**"

Now, Ethan knew his parents had paranoia problems. It was a conversation all of them would have, like their own fucked up version of The Talk. Where the children would learn why they weren't allowed to wake Dad up from nightmares, why they had to be very careful when asking Daddy to play, or why to this day Ethan has never seen a golden retriever.

So as the crowd around them went deathly silent, staring at their every move and refusing to stand near them, it was no wonder it raised the little hairs on their father's neck.

And as their father tightly gripped their hands and twisted in apparition, neither Ethan nor Harry argued.

* * *

**I looked a ton into wandlore for this. Thunderbird tail feathers are powerful, hard to master, and can occasionally sense danger and act independently of their wix. Hornbeam wands bond to wixen with obsessions or passions that are almost always realised, and fuse to their master's morals and style so quickly no other wix can easily get them to work for even simple spells. I felt they matched the stubborn, impulsive Ed well.**

**As for Ethan, mahogany tends to favor people who are strong, protective, and practical, which suits him well. I didn't find any of the developed cores fit quite right, so I took a core we knew existed but not what it did and went with that. I bullshited together some lore and now Wampus hair favours bullheaded, stubborn wizards who are loyal and prone to rule breaking. If you steal/try one and it doesn't like you? Have fun dumbass it now only casts 'explode.'**

**Hasani is a black mamba, which is incidentally my favorite species of snake. (Look them up, they're deadly but adorable!) I just gave him a minor magic ability for the sake of explaining why the shop had him. And yes, I know snakes are (mostly!) deaf, but this is a story about magic. It's hardly the dumbest thing you have to overlook.**

**I gave the brothers those leather gloves due to the fact owls have very long and sharp talons. A woman once brought a snowy in for a demonstration in my elementary school, and she emphasized the need for them in falconry (as well as bells/leashes). And while I can handwave the others (plus hoods) away on account of the messenger owls in Harry Potter being smarter and more loyal to their masters, no amount of love is going to stop their talons from tearing your arm to shreds when they land on them.**


	9. Chapter 9

The family loved Hasani and Hedwig. Little Ben in particular was taken with Hedwig, who often had to fly out of sight to avoid the overeager toddler. The snowy liked to take refuge with Frankie, who hit it off with the owl in a terrifying combination.

Hasani, however, would often offer to look after the little ones, and as a result had taken a shine to one year old Hilde in particular. On her birthday a little before the eldest brothers' departure, the now two year old, the snake had gone as far as to get her a new plush.

When asked where he had gotten the stuffed animal, Hasani had replied he traded Frankie some venom in exchange for her making it. When they asked Frankie why she needed Black Mamba venom, she just smiled to herself and didn't answer.

The extended family had come to see her birthday, as well as the brothers' departure. Harry was in the living room with two month old Hans when Entle Al sat beside him.

"You look worried," they said softly.

Harry sighed, absently wiping a bit of drool from Hans' face, "I'm just- Earth seems so confusing. Everybody is expecting shit from me that Lily should have gotten credit for, and I know Ethan's coming with me but I don't want to leave everyone else! And then I feel like shit because James and Lily cared about me- even _died_ for me, and here I am throwing a fit over spending a year trying their culture. And it's not even a full year!"

Hans made a little babbling noise, and Harry let him down, "I just- would they even be proud of me? I've probably changed so much from what they wanted. Maybe this whole Hogwarts thing is too little too late, y'know?"

There was a moment of silence, before Al reached out to pull him tight to their side, "I certainly can't speak for the Potters, but I know that I'm proud of you. And so is Mei. And Brother, and Winry. Plus all of your siblings, and your cousins, and Granny, and Brother's old military friends, and Teacher, and Sig, and-"

Harry laughed, shoving them, "I get it, I get it."

Entle put down their fingers where they'd been counting them, "now, I'm just a math prodigy, but that seems like a lot of people. And I can't think of a single person who isn't absolutely delighted by you, so statistically speaking, so would the Potters. And if they wouldn't be, well in that case fuck 'em. They don't deserve you."

And as Harry later watched his youngest sister blow out her candles surrounded by loved ones, he felt better.

* * *

"_~Humans sure like clumping together,~_" Hasani hissed, "_~they're everywhere.~_"

"_~We're social creatures,~_" Ethan replied lowly enough to be lost in the din, "_~we like having each other around.~_"

"_~Seems annoying.~_"

Harry chuckled, and Hedwig clicked her beak in his cart. Behind them, Ed was frowning at the ticket.

"**[9 ¾? What the actual fuck does that mean?]**"

"**[I'd assume there's a secret passage or something, considering Diagon.]**"

"**[And how are we supposed to find that? Go around molesting every brick in the station until one opens? Fuckin' Earth Wix-]**"

"-packed with muggles, of course."

Like a gaggle of rabbits, the Elric-Rockbell's heads popped up in the direction of the voice. Unlike rabbits, they eagerly moved _towards_ the sound.

"Percy first," commanded a stout woman with bushy red hair, "go on."

A frustrating group of people passed, and by the time they were gone Percy had left. Luckily, the woman had more kids to usher through, and turned to a pair of identical twins.

"Fred, you go next"

"I'm not Fred! I'm George," the twin replied in offense.

"Honestly, and you call yourself our mother. Can't you _tell?_" The second, Fred apparently, added.

"Oh, I'm sorry George dear," she replied in fondness.

George smirked, "only kidding, I am Fred."

And then both boys took off at the wall. The Elric-Rockbells tensed, waiting for the collision, but instead of crashing into the wall like any respectable people they disappeared into the bricks like the stone was nothing more than water.

"**[Well that's convenient.]**" Ethan noted as the trio redirected towards the woman.

"Hey," Ed grunted as they approached, "zis zee vay to Hogvarts?"

The woman blinked, eyes on him for a long, unnerving moment before she smiled, "first time dears? Ron's new too."

She gestured to the last of her sons, a tall, gangling boy with freckles and rust red hair. His eyes also seemed to linger on him and Ethan, which left Harry confused. What the hell?

"Yeah," he confirmed, "vee're just havink trouble locatink zee platform. You just run srough vere, yes?"

He pointed at the wall, and she smiles, "that's right, best to do it at a run if you're nervous."

Ed thought of what would happen if someone was at the other end when they ran, and shook his head, "vee'll valk. C'mon."

His hand touched Harry's back, and he speed walked towards the bricks. Part of him was tensing, waiting for the _clang_ when he hit the wall. It didn't come.

Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, he sent Ethan after his brother. Following at his heels.

Passing the threshold didn't have any particular sensation. No coldness, no pressure, no nothing. It left him almost disoriented as the bricks were suddenly replaced with crowds and a great, scarlet train. Cats wound their way through people's legs, owls hooted disgruntledly as they were shifted around, and the occasional non-standard pet would shriek or caw or croak.

He paused, then he remembered to move out of the way. They left the woman with a quick thank you and approached the train.

His sons stopped at the train's entrance, turning to face him. Ethan's jaw was set, but Harry had tears welling in his eyes as he stepped forward for a tight hug. But the firm squeeze he gave him in return only seemed to make him cry more.

He'd never been away from his family for more than a few days before.

"**[I'll miss you, Dad.]**"

Ed kneeled in order to scoop both of his boys into a tight hug, "**[it'll be alright, I'll see you in nine months, yeah?]**"

"**[And we'll be writing you the entire time.]**" Ethan swore, "**[Hedwig is going to be so buff come summer.]**"

Ed laughed, but it tasted bitter on his tongue, "**[I'll be counting on it.]**"

(And if he cried a little as the train pulled out? Well, nobody had to know.)

* * *

Harry wiped his eyes and set his jaw, marching with his trunk past groups of chattering children. Finding an empty compartment, he opened Hedwig's cage to let her perch on the seat across from them.

Ethan sighed as Hasani uncoiled himself to explore the new space, "**[No going back now.]**"

Harry didn't reply.

They pushed their trunks onto the shelves above and plopped down heavily into their seats. Taking out _**Magic and Meditation as it Relates to the Dragon's Pulse**_, Harry attempted to read, only to find he couldn't focus on the words.

Has Dad returned yet? Would he miss Hans' first words? Hilde's first transmutation? Fuck, he was missing so many birthdays-

"Is it alright if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

The two jumped in surprise, turning to regard the boy. It was Ron, looking bored for the most part. Harry shrugged, and Ethan let him take a seat.

The twins stuck their heads in a moment later, mentioning something about a tarantula before ducking back out. Ron shuddered once the door shut, turning to them with a morbidly humorous expression.

"Hate spiders. Have since I was a kid." He offered a single, oversized hand, "Ron Weasley."

Harry took it, "Harry Elric-Rockbell, zee schort one's Ethan."

The boy in question reached out to smack his brother upside the head, "**[I'm still growing you stupid sack of shit.]**"

Harry snickered, and Ron seemed to relax a little into his seat, "so you're twins then? Must not be identical."

"Really?" Ethan asked, "Usually vee can't be told apart."

Harry and Ethan gave him identical deadpan expressions, though they still managed to look different on the polar opposite builds and coloring. Where Harry was tall, Ethan was short. He wore glasses, Ethan's eyes were clear. His hair was dark, Ethan's was a shining gold.

"Yeah," nodded Ron in false consideration, "I think it's the accent."

The trio laughed, for Harry and Ethan had identical, thick Amestrian accents.

Hasani hissed for Ethan's attention, taking the boy's offered arm and coiling loosely around his shoulders for a nap. Ron paled, looking slightly spooked.

"You have a pet snake?"

"Not a pet," Ethan replied, "~_Hasani~_ iz a friend."

Hasani's name was still largely in parseltongue, as they hadn't really felt a need to give him an Amestrian name. As a result, Ron looked even more pale, freckles stark against his face.

"You're parselmouths."

Harry and Ethan glanced at each other, "yes, iz vat a problem?"

"No, it's just," Ron's voice lowered to a whisper, "You-Know-Who was a parselmouth."

"Ah!" Harry said as a few things came together, "so zat iz vhy. Zere iz, vat's zee vord- stigma attached, yes?"

Ron nodded, "yeah! I guess you can't really help it, sorry for overreacting."

Harry waved a hand, he wasn't going to hold a grudge for a few seconds, "iz fine, no harm done."

The redhead brightened, leaning in, "so you guys have an owl and a snake? Wicked."

Ethan smiled, "the owl's name is Hedwig, the snake is called _~Hasani.~_"

Ron made a face of concentration, "Hah-san-EE, Hasani."

"_~Close enough.~_" Hasani hissed sleepily, "_~for a non-speaker.~_"

"He approves," Ethan said with amusement.

Ron dug through his trunk for a moment, before pulling out a fat grey rat, "I only have Scabbers, he was my brother's old rat."

"Do you have a lot of zose?" Harry asked curiously, "Bruders, I mean."

Ron sighed, "Five. And one sister. I'm the sixth to go to Hogwarts."

Harry smirked, "zeven total? Veak. I'm zee zecond of nine ziblinks."

The ginger's eyes bugged out, "_nine!?_"

"And countink," Harry confirmed, "me and Ethan are zee first to go to Hogvarts."

"Shit, mate." Ron said absently, "your parents trying for a girl too?"

"No," Ethan replied with a smile, "zey just need better hobbies."

"Blimey…"

Ron seemed to take a minute to process that, before he spoke again, "so why Hogwarts anyway? You guys don't seem to be in it's usual range."

"My biological parents came from Hogvarts, ve're goink for one year to honor zem," Harry replied honestly, "zee Potters-"

"_You're Harry Potter!?_" He shouted, "shit, you got the scar and everything?"

Harry sighed, pushing up his bandana to briefly flash his scar, "please don't make a big deal out of it, I'm an Elric-Rockbell now. Have been for years."

Weasley blushed, "sorry, I didn't mean to. Just, you remember anything?"

"I vas one," Harry replied bluntly, "so no. If I stretch far, I can get a flash of green, but vat iz all."

"Wow."

"Look, can vee drop it?" Harry asked, "it'z not exactly my favorite zubject of conferzation."

Ron turned as red as his hair, "yeah, sorry."

Silence permeated for a moment, before a woman pushing a trolley came by. Saving the brothers from having to salvage the encounter.

"Anything off the cart, dears?"

"No, I'm good," Ron replied as he retrieved a small bag of sandwiches, looking sullen.

Harry frowned, before impulsively buying a good pound of snacks. Ethan sighing as Harry began to bully Ron into trading some for the sandwiches.

"They're dry," Ron was saying, "she doesn't have much time and-"

"I don't mind," Harry replied, shoving a pumpkin pasty under the redhead's long nose, "c'mon, trade me."

"You schould probably listen to him," Ethan sighed, "He iz zee stubbornest man you'll efer meet."

Harry shot him a glare while, looking absolutely exasperated, Ron allowed himself to take the pasty. From there, the boys managed to get along fine.

"Schit-!" Harry hissed as a chocolate frog leaped out of the box and through the open window.

Ron laughed, "rotten luck, what card did you get? I'm missing Agrippa."

"Collect zem?" Harry asked with amusement as he lifted the card out of the box, Ethan trying a go at catching the frog. He turned the plastic over in his fingers, eyes falling on the twinkling eyes of the headmaster.

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

**Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,**

**Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the**

**dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the**

**twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy**

**with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore**

**enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.**

Harry scowled in disgust, candy in his stomach turning sour. Tossing the offending card in the trash pile where it belonged.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, looking alarmed.

"Just not a fan," he replied, while Ethan started to laugh.

The two looked at him, he'd already eaten the frog and was giggling at his card. Passing it to Harry, he saw the card was one of Hohenheim. Their grandfather staring up at them with an expression like a deer in headlights.

**PARACELSUS**

**DECEASED**

**Known as one of history's greatest healers and**

**scholars, Paracelsus is credited for the discovery of**

**parseltongue and is largely considered a pioneer of alchemy.**

**Interestingly, despite his yellow eyes Paracelsus never showed any**

**signs of lycanthropy. Paracelsus' final resting place is unknown, **

**as he simply vanished one day. He was said to talk to**

**himself often, and enjoyed research and study.**

"You have an opinion on him too?" Ron asked dryly.

"More or less," Ethan replied.

"He vas our grandvader," Harry clarified.

"...like, great grandfather?"

"Sure," the two agreed vaguely, and Ron looked a little uneasy before something seemed to click.

"Oh!" he snapped his fingers, "so you aren't a- you know-"

He waved vaguely at his face and eyes, and Ethan looked amused, "I am not a verevolf, if vat iz vhat you mean."

"I was wondering, with the sort of half gold half blue you have going on there."

"It iz a harmless condition," he explained, "runs in our family."

"It looks wicked," Ron solemnly assured.

Time passed steadily, and soon neat fields and countryside bled into thick forests and winding rivers. It made Harry's chest ache, seeing the Risembool-like hills and farmhouses disappear behind the horizon. Like he was giving it all up.

He didn't _want_ to give it up. He wanted his family.

The sliding door opened with a _bang,_ and without thinking Harry's fingers curled around his kunai. Similarly, Ethan was already on his feet, stance lowering.

Dad would have sooner eaten his arm then let his children be slow and unable to defend themselves. In his combat born paranoia, he was convinced it was a death sentence, and trained each of his brood to take down assailants of all kinds.

So as the door slammed open, Harry's hand went to his magically expanded bag. The knife falling into his grip in a familiar fashion.

But there were no thugs, no chimera, and no homunculus at the door (not that a mere kunai would be able to save him had the Dwarf himself stepped through that threshold). Instead, there stood a bushy haired girl with dark skin and even darker eyes. Her intense expression reminded Harry of Grandma 'zumi, if she was about two feet shorter and far less intimidating.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" The girl demands, "Neville lost his."

A nervous looking boy peaked out from behind her, round face more than a little red and sweaty. "Sorry to bother you, but he keeps getting away from me."

Ron shook his head, "haven't seen him, sorry mate."

Ethan tilted his head, before turning to face Hasani, "_~you mind looking for a lost toad?~_"

Hasani cracked a single black eye, "_~to eat?~_"

Ethan shook his head, "_~it's a pet.~_"

"_~Pet? A toad is perfectly good food!~_" The snake stretched out, heaving a hissing sigh, "_~I suppose it's only proper… I'll help you find it.~_"

And with that Ethan marched away with an increasingly terrified Neville. As he watched them go, Harry could only hope the poor sap didn't keel over from fright by the time they reached Hogwarts. The girl was left staring at them somewhat awkwardly, before her eyes fell upon where Hedwig was napping on the bench.

Nose in the air, she shrilly said, "I don't think you're allowed to leave your owl out like that."

Harry snorted, "vhat're zey gonna do about it? Expel me?"

"Yes!" She replied, sounding positively scandalized, "and you aren't allowed to have a snake either. Especially a black mamba."

"Zey can expel me if zey vant," Harry said bluntly, "I don't really care, to be honest."

The girl stomped her foot and made an inarticulate sound of rage, "well maybe _you_ don't care, but some of us _do._ So you might as well get dressed."

Her eyes found Ron, who looked a little stiff with confusion, "you have dirt on your nose, by the way. Right there."

She jabbed roughly at a spot on the ginger's nose before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her.

Silence sat between Ron and Harry for a bit. Then they began to laugh.

"Whatever house I end up in," Ron breathed, "I hope it's not with _her._"

Harry's eyebrows raised, his bespeckled eyes snapping to Ron's, "house?"

"Yeah," Ron said easily enough, "Hogwarts divides it's students into four houses based on personality. There's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

Harry felt a lump growing in his throat, suddenly aching for Ethan's steady warmth. All this time, he thought they'd stay together but if the houses were really based on personality then-

What if they came all this way, only to be split up now?

* * *

**Entle is a non-standard term for a non-binary aunt/uncle. I chose it because I liked the sound. Yes, Al was using he/him in chapter two but that was me forgetting I was making them agender in this. I have since fixed the error. My apologies.**

**I sincerely hope my psuedo-German accent does not come across as offensive. If I managed to fuck up and it is, please let me know and I'll fix it. If **_**anything**_ **I write is offensive please tell me, that's the last thing I want to do and I'd love to fix it. To clarify: Amestrain and German are different languages, but frankly I'm too lazy to make up an entire accent, so I'm using German as a stand in.**

**Also someone pointed out I should be putting these at the end and they're absolutely right. Shoutout to Tzapporah, for I am the fool. I've since moved them all down.**

**And on that note, I actually want to thank anyone here who's left a review. Reading them is honestly the best part of my day, and while I'm very much new to the whole 'writing' thing, your kind words have encouraged me to keep going.**

**That said, I have already received one message telling me to die. Those aren't as appreciated and will be deleted. Criticism is fine, and I don't mind swearing, just keep it civil.**


	10. Chapter 10

"So vat house do you zink you'll be in?" Harry asked, voice thick with sudden nerves.

Ron shrugged, "Gryffindor, probably. My whole family has been, don't know what they'd do if I wasn't. You?"

He shook his head, "I don't know enough about zee houses to tell."

"Well you should be fine," Ron said easily, "you seem alright, so it's not like you'll be Slytherin or anything-"

Harry felt a little blindsided, "vat'z vrong viz Slyzerin?"

"Oh, well, nothing," Ron looked a little red, and definitely called out, "it's- well, when it was made it was supposed to be for the cunning and ambitious, but since then it's sort of become a hotbed of bloodpurists and anti-muggle extremity. Every wizard out of it seems to go bad, hell, even You-Know-Who was a Slytherin."

"You-Know-Vho?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Ron explained, "they guy who killed your parents. He had a curse on his name that told him where you were, and if you said it his Death Eaters would come and kill you. Even now that he's dead people are still terrified of saying it, so it's sort of a cultural taboo. Hence, You-Know-Who."

Harry might have scoffed at that if it hadn't been for being raised by a combat veterin. Dad, in all his sleepless night terrors and paranoid habits, had long since taught his children that at times things that seemed innocuous could be turned into something terrifying for others.

But Ron was his age, and likely couldn't even remember the reign of Voldemort, let alone have developed C-PTSD from it. This was more akin to a child refusing to swear than a warvet refusing to read a war novel.

And so, it was with a smug grin he stated, "oh? You mean Voldemort?"

Ron choked on his spit, and Harry began to laugh.

"Zorry, I just had to do it once," he grinned, "but zeriously, You-Know-Vho is long and ztupid. How about Moldyschorts?"

Ron snickered, "Moldyshorts sounds good."

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minute's time," a voice echoed throughout the train, startling Harry but not Ron, "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The two scrambled to get dressed, backs turned to each other. The first problem came when Harry removed his bandana to set his Hogwarts hat on his head, and realised it showed his scar. Frustrated, he folded his bandana into a rectangle and tied it back on. The hat headband combo looked ridiculous, and the ends of his scar peaked out both ends where it touched his hairline and nicked his eyebrow.

Just as he was ready to scream, Ron tapped his shoulder. Plucking the cloth from Harry's hand, he stepped behind him and did something with the bandana he couldn't see. When he was done, it was wrapped perfectly around Harry's skull, without even a knot to show its real form. Then, Ron sat the hat over Harry's head and tugged the back down.

Harry blinked at him, then looked back at his reflection in the window. The hat bandana combo looked good, or at least purposeful, and Harry smiled.

"How'd you do zat?"

Ron shrugged, looking pleased, "Mum taught me, I'll show you later, if you want."

He couldn't nod fast enough. That sounded useful as hell.

Ethan came running into the room then, swearing under his breath in a myriad of languages as he got dressed at lightning speed. The other two politely turned their backs, Ron tucking a still sleeping Scabbers in his pocket while Harry reluctantly coaxed Hedwig back into her cage.

When all three were dressed and Hasani hiden away in Ethan's robes, the group made their way out of the compartment. Groups of kids were already filling the hall, and the three had to duck and weave through the thick crowding before they felt the cold embrace of outside air.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Called a familiar voice.

Harry's shoulders slumped with a sigh, "**[Fucking Hagrid.]**"

Ethan looked bitterly resigned, and Ron's eyes widened at the sight of the large man and his lantern, "bloody hell."

"Alright there, 'arry? Ethan?" The half giant smiled, and Harry nodded.

"Eferyzing iz vell, zir."

"Now there's no need for tha'," he protested, "'Hagrid' is fine."

Harry nodded wordlessly, and the man grinned at the gathering children, "c'mon! Any more firs' years?"

There was a low murmuring between the children, before a few loud refusals from each section.

"Good! Mind yer step now, an' follow me!"

Following the giant like ducklings, the children slipped and skid down a steep, narrow passage. Harry and Ethan, as in shape as they were, sat at the front of the group at first and were often shoved by stumbling others. Eventually they gave up and moved back to allow the less able kids near the back to steady themselves on them.

The path opened up to a view of a great castle in the distance, lights shining brightly as the sun dipped low on the horizon. The separating lake at the end of the walk was pitch black, inky water swallowing his reflection like tar.

"No more'n four to a boat!"

The brothers stayed back to help those who needed it, before finding their way back to Ron. He was settled in with Neville, and smirked as Harry hopped in.

"Enjoying your community service?"

"I vill schofe you into zee vater," Harry announced, but didn't.

"FORWARD," Hagrid shouted, and the boats lurched forward of their own volition. Harry leaned over the side, dipping his fingers in the water and watching it distort.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ron warned, "there's a giant squid under there."

Harry's eyes lit up, and Ethan groaned.

"**[Let's find it.]**"

"**[Harry...]**"

"**[It's a giant squid! We're living next door to a giant squid! We **_**have**_ **to find it!]**"

"**[It's going to end up bashing your brains out on the lakebed.]**"

Harry grinned, "**[That's not a no.]**"

"Uh, what are you guys talking about?" Neville quietly asked, clutching his toad close.

Harry turned to the meek boy, expression deadly serious, "Neville, I vill not rest until I have pet zee squid."

"Pet!?" Ethan shrieked, while Ron looked exasperated.

"First day and I've befriended a madman. Take that Fred."

"Watch yer heads!" Hagrid yelled as the boats passed under a curtain of ivy, revealing a hidden cover underneath.

They pulled into an underground harbor, the boats locking in as the kids began to climb out and onto the pebbles and stone. The walls were natural, rough eroded stone on every side but the ivy's. As the crowd went in further, however, they met a set of concrete steps leading up to a stone brick wall.

Hagrid grinned at them all as they reached the top, raising a great big fist to bang on the heavy oak doors. The tall woman from Rush Valley answered, possessing a slender and bony face with black hair pulled tightly into a bun. She exchanged a few words with Hagrid, then sent the large man away.

The woman led them to a room large enough to encase a park. Stairs led away in different directions, and a large door rumbled lowly with thousands of voices. They were led to a small, crowded room off the side of what Harry assumed was the hall, where she stood at a second door and turned to face them.

"My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall," she spoke loudly and clearly, "welcome to Hogwarts."

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

She folded her hands behind her board straight back, stern expression falling over the first years. Harry wondered if she went to anybody else's house to bug them that summer.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes fell on Neville's messy robes and Ethan's ungroomed hair. The former shrank away shyly, but the latter glared right back and pulled a face. Her frown tightened, and she turned away.

"Please wait quietly."

As the green of her robe disappeared behind the door, the group of children burst into whispers. Ron in particular was edgy with nerves.

"It's a tradition not to tell first years what the Sorting Ceremony is," he muttered next to Harry, "Fred said it hurt a lot, and George mentioned wrestling a troll, but they're notorious liars."

Harry considered that for a moment, "you can borrow some of my kunai, if you like."

Ron gave him a wide eyed look of shock, mouth wide open.

"Don't be ztupid," Ethan replied, and for a moment their new friend looked relieved before the blond continued, "vat are zee chances he'z been trained viz zrowink knifes? I'll make him a bat, you don't need much trainink for zat."

"Viz hiz upper body strengz?" Harry commented, "Hiz arms look like noodles, he'd be better off takink a chance viz zee kunai's scharp edge."

Now Ron just looked offended, "my arms aren't that thin-!"

Children screamed, and as Ron jumped the bickering brothers spun on their heels and into fighting stances. Only, there wasn't a threat. Still, Harry felt his eyes widen as he took in the sight of roughly twenty ghosts drifting into the tiny room.

Now, back in Amestris, ghosts were a very rare sight. Their absence was considered a very curious phenomenon for centuries before the Dwarf's fall, when they found out the homunculi had been collecting and pooling ghosts into Philosopher's Stones.

(Harry still remembered how his parents had sobbed when he found out Maes Hughes had been one of those ghosts.)

A short and fat monk was talking, "forgive and forget, I say. We ought to give him another chance-"

"_Another chance?_" A ruff wearing spectre exclaims, "Friar, we've given him over a hundred chances by now! And what does he do with those chances? Drags the name of all ghosts through the mud, that's what! And he's not even a gho- oh! Who are you?"

The children stare blankly at him, and soon the Frair grins. "New students! About to be Sorted?"

"Yes," Harry and Ethan speak clearly, as a few others nod.

"Good, good! I hope to see you all in Hufflepuff," the Friar giggles, "I'm the House Ghost there, you know."

"Vat's zee purpose of a House Ghost?" Harry called, but before the beaming spirit could answer McGonagall returned.

"Move along now," she commands, giving the ghosts a sharp look to disperse them, "form a line. The Ceremony's about to start."

The Great Hall was even larger than the Entrance Hall, filled with four long tables and a shorter table perpendicular to them. The staff sat at the shortest, the tablecloth a royal purple, meanwhile the children's tables were clothed in red, green, yellow, and blue. They all were filled with glittering golden plates and goblets. Candles floated suspended in the air, glowing warmly as the ghosts weaved between the live humans with expectant expressions. Against the rafters, a ceiling gleamed with twinkling stars.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," the girl from the train whispered, "I read so in _**Hogwarts, A History.**_"

"Congratulations," Ron muttered, "you can officially read."

She shot him a dirty look, but before she could respond the crowd had reached a dingy little stool in front of the staff table, where McGonagall sets a beat up and patched hat.

A hat that had _chi._

Harry and Ethan exchanged dubious looks, before a long rip tore open on the hat and it began to _sing._

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

That- That was a soul bound _person._ It had to be. It had human chi, and there was no other way to give an object sentience.

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

But how did they manage to bind a soul to cloth? Was there an iron plate hidden inside the hat? Sewn into the hem? How long had they been like this?

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

Did they even have a human name anymore? Or was this all they can remember now? Singing and sorting children once a year like some kind of trained _monkey._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

Fuck, if they were forced into this Harry was going to kill someone. There was no other option. This is _inexcusable._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

Ethan's hand gripped his shoulder, giving him a brief and comforting squeeze. Harry hadn't even realized how hard his nails were digging into his palms until he did.

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you have a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

He took a breath, relaxed. He'd just have to ask the hat himself, when it got around to sorting him. Easy.

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make you real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

It didn't feel easy.

_So put me! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The song ended, and the hall burst into applause. Neither Harry nor his brother joined in, feeling sick as they watched the hat bow to each house in turn before going still.

"When I call your name," McGonagall instructed as she unrolled a scroll, "take a seat on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with pigtails steps forward. Trading hats for the ratty old thing. It falls over her eyes, and there's a moment's silence before the hat's rip opens again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The yellow table cheers, and the girl returns the hat. Running to her fellows with clear relief on her face as she falls into a seat. Harry notices the Friar grinning at her as McGonagall calls the next name.

The rest of the sorting is similar.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Cheering.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Cheering.

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheering.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Cheering.

"Elric-Rockbell, Ethan!"

Pulled out of his daydreaming, Harry watched as his brother stepped forward. Seating himself straight backed on his chair and watching the crowd with a steel-eyed expression.

Snatching the hat out of McGonagall's hands, he carefully checked the inside before hesitantly taking his off to set it on his head.

The hat slid down, covering his brother's eyes, and Harry waited with baited breath as the room once again went silent. The process took a while, his brother's scowl steadily deepening as he and the hat argued over… something. Probably the soulbound.

Finally, his frown smoothed over, and after another second the hat's rip opened again as it called;

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Ethan removed the hat, passing it to the miffed looking McGonagall before walking to the yellow table, which greeted him with cheers. Straight backed and noble, he sent Harry a reassuring smile.

A good sign then.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

Wait. That wasn't right. They were going in alphabetical order!

Stopping Finch-Fletchley with his hand, Harry strode forward with a sneer.

"Mr. Potter, it isn't your turn yet-" McGonagall started.

Harry ignored the gasps and whispers in the crowd, though he was rather pissed his bandana trick was now useless thanks to McGonagall's loose lips.

"My family name iz Elric-Rockbell, zank you fery much!" Harry hissed, "I haven't been Potter in ten yearz, and I vill be zorted viz my bruder!"

The whispers increased to chatter, and Harry turned to glare at them all, "Schut zee fuck up!"

"Language!" McGonagall barked, though the children obediently went silent.

"You can schove your language up your ass," Harry shot back, "and your English viz it!"

Snatching the hat from her hands, he sat down with a glare and pulled it roughly over his face.

'_**[My, my,]**_' the hat remarked from inside Harry's head, '_**[you've certainly got a temper.]**_'

'_**[You know Amestrain.]**_' Harry said with surprise.

'_**[Not exactly,]**_' the hat replied, '_**[my words are translated to suit your first language. Now I assume you have questions about a seal?]**_'

Harry nodded, '_**[I didn't get a chance to look for one myself, but Ethan didn't look like he found one.]**_'

'_**[That's because he didn't,]**_' the Hat assured him, '_**[my consciousness did not come by this Hat by alchemy.]**_'

'_**[Then how?]**_' Harry asked, '_**[Alkahestry never touched this world. Was it some kind of soul magic?]**_'

'_**[With a side of blood magic.]**_' The Hat agreed, '_**[but worry not, child. Believe it or not, I chose this.]**_'

'_**[Why?]**_' Harry asked, thoughts flashing to his Entle, '_**[why would you ever choose this?]**_'

'_**[Very complicated reasons,]**_' the Hat sighed, '_**[very, very complicated reasons.]**_'

'_**[That's not an answer.]**_'

'_**[Maybe not, but that's not why we're here. We're here to find you a house.]**_'

Harry blinked in confusion, eyelashes brushing the worn cloth, '_**[I'm a Hufflepuff, obviously. That's where Ethan is.]**_'

'_**[No, no]**_' the Hat said slowly, '_**[I don't think that's true.]**_'

Panic began to flutter in his chest, '_**[well make it true! I want to be with my brother!]**_'

The Hat ignored him, muttering to itself now, '_**[clever and mischievous. Perhaps a Slytherin? But that impulsive temper is very Gryffindor...]**_'

'_**[No, no, no!]**_' Harry wailed with desperation, '_**[Hufflepuff! Give me Hufflepuff!]**_'

'_**[You can't stay with your brother forever, Harry,]**_' the Hat replied, '_**[rather you'd be-]**_'

"RAVENCLAW!"

Tears stung Harry's eyes, frustration bubbling in his chest like a volatile potion. Through his anger, Harry bit out one last question.

'_**[What's your name?]**_'

'_**[My human name was Godric,]**_' the hat whispered, before it was torn off and the candle glow stabbed at Harry's eyes.

The hall was silent. Everyone staring at him in shock. Eventually, someone at the Ravenclaw table managed to start clapping, the sound snowballing into the loudest applause yet. He stormed over in their direction, sitting on an edge as close as he could manage to his brother.

Their backs were turned to each other like this, and it felt so wrong he was practically itching to just turn around to talk to him.

"Hello Harry," as an older girl with long, curly hair said softly, "My name is Penelope, I'll be one of your prefects this year. If you have any issues, I'm here."

He nodded mutely, and sulked quietly for the rest of the feast, ignoring all attempts at conversation. Sullenly watching the rest of the sorting.

Ron went to Gryffindor, and Neville to Hufflepuff, so there goes both of his new friends. The train girl, Hermione Granger apparently, went to Slytherin with tears in her eyes, and Harry was faintly happy at least one person was more upset with their house then him.

Then he felt terrible, because Mom did _not _raise him to think that way. If Slytherin really were a bunch of muggle-hating extremists then Granger could very well be in for a _miserable_ seven years. Like having to room with people who actually _liked_ Fuhrer Bradley's presidency.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

Godric disappears with the stool, and Dumbledore stands up. His arms open wide as if to embrace the hundreds of students before him.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are Nitwit! Bubbler! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

The old man sat down, and the hall burst into applause. Harry was less impressed, and just began to quietly load his plate with the food that magically appeared from (presumably) some other place in the castle.

"Hey!" A boy from his year, Stephan Cornfoot, excitedly chatters, "you really Harry Potter?"

"No."

The boy waved his hand, "Harry Elric-Rockbell then, but you _used_ to be Potter?"

"Technically."

Still not taking the hint, the boy leaned in with a huge smile, "sweet, can we see your scar?"

Harry took his plate and left. Ignoring the boy's indignant shouts as he plopped down next to Ethan.

"**[Fuckin' hat,]**" Ethan hissed, "**[Hufflepuff's supposed to be notorius for taking in anyone too, where the fuck does it get off?]**"

"**[M' gonna turn it into underpants,]**" Harry agreed, "**[the pink kind. With **_**frills.**_**]**"

"**[I was thinking of a bib,]**" Ethan commented, "**[or an oil rag. Mom could always use another.]**"

They were empty threats, and the boys knew it, but they made them feel a little better. Though the other kids looked a little scandalized with their table hopping, and even more so when Ron joined them, they remained unbothered.

After dessert, Dumbledore stood up again "Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

"Vell now vee have to go," Harry commented, and the others sighed.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

There was laughter, and over it Ethan groaned, "let me guess, ve're going?"

"Zey're practically beggink us!"

"I think they're doing the opposite, mate," Ron replied.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore finishes, and the other teacher's smiles turn ridgid as he flicks his wand, releasing a long gold ribbon into the air. Lyrics scrawled onto it in dark ink.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," Dumbledore cries, "and off we go!"

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now, they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

The song was terrible, everyone singing at different paces and pitches. Even Hasani let out a hiss of displeasure within Ethan's shirt.

"_~For the love of J__ör shut them up!~_"

Luckily for the serpent, the song came to an end soon enough. Ron's redheaded brothers being the last to finish as they dragged it out with a slow marching song neither Elric-Rockbell recognised.

The hall applauded once more, though they seemed less enthused to do so. Dumbledore, the senile old bastard, clapped the loudest, wiping tears from his eyes. "Ah music, a magic beyond all we do here."

He straightened, "and now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

Ron headed off immediately, though Harry and Ethan paused for a tight embrace before separating to their house groups.

The way to what Harry learned was called Ravenclaw Tower was long, winding and confusing. It involved a lot of stairs, most of which he was informed moved or didn't really exist, which just sounded like an accident waiting to happen.

On top of that, the way into the actual dorm was by answering a riddle. Which changed every time one was answered, apparently. And also if you couldn't answer you were locked out and had to sleep on the floor.

"Does the knocker accept bribes?" Harry asked, hopeful.

"Of course not!" The knocker, a bronze eagle replied with offense.

He sighed. Fuck, if any of them involved history from Gaia, Harry was screwed. Should probably just set up his cot out here now, in fact.

The door opened onto a loft, the inside of the tower looking like a small library, filled with books from head to toe. The ceiling was painted with stars, and a statue labeled 'Renowa Ravenclaw' stood at the lowest end. Blue curtains framed floor to ceiling windows, and furniture littered the place, along with tables and desks. A large fireplaces were situated snuggly into the wall, and a few doors led to open balconies.

"Hello first years!" Penelope began, "I know you must all be very tired, so I'll keep it brief."

"You aren't allowed to bring any friends from other houses here," her eyes slid over Harry, and he met her gaze evenly, "you can use the books freely, so long as you don't damage them, in which case you won't be able to anymore. Boys aren't allowed in the girl's dorm and vice versa. Some goes for the nonbinary dorm. Ravenclaw gains and loses points based on the behaviour and grades of its students, so please don't shame us."

"If you have any problems we're here to help, even if it's for school work. If not us, you have our Head of House, Charms Master and Dueling Legend Professor Flitwick."

She stepped back, hand waving to a door that swung open grandly. The children around Harry tensing with anticipation, only for a short man with clear goblin features to step out of the entrance.

"Greetings my Ravens!" He chirped with a squeaking voice, odd considering goblin's gravely tones, "welcome to Hogwarts! To a very good seven years from this day on!"

And that was it.

The children dispersed, finding the hidden doorways into rooms that matched their year and gender. Harry's was shared with only a few other kids. Five total, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Stephen Cornfoot, and Oliver Rivers.

The room split in half as they stepped foot inside, giving the two rooms rather than one. Plaques read which students went where, Harry stepped into the one on the right.

It was circular, with four rectangular box-like nooks with beds set perfectly into them. They each had a window to their sides, and curtains over the top. Dressers and desks further isolated each bed, until it looked like each was it's own personal hideaway.

Two boys followed him in, and Harry quickly found his bed based on his supplies already laid out neatly on his desk, his clothing folded away in his dresser. He assumed Hedwig was already in the owlery, and swore to visit as soon as he could.

The other two boys (Goldstein and Rivers) began chatting, and as Harry changed into his pajamas, he was pleasantly surprised to note the curtains were charmed sound proof.

He settled with his back against the wall, a scroll braced against a textbook in his lap as he penned (he's not using a fucking quill unless forced) a letter home.

_**[Dear Assholes,**_

_**Me and Ethan made it to Pigfarts safe and sound. So far? Fuckin' sucks. 0/10. Wouldn't recommend.**_

_**Got sorted into different dorms by a soulbinded hat named Godric, so he can go fuck himself. We sorta made a friend, though he's in another dorm too. His name is Ron Weasley, and he's from that ginger family.**_

_**Minerva McFuckItAll told everyone my old name, so our bandana plan is out. I'm still going to wear them though. Maybe get into makeup if I can find a person.**_

_**How're you? Keep us updated.**_

_**your little black sheep,**_

_**Harry]**_

* * *

**Me, standing over wizard culture with a bat: you will respect enbys**

**Also since we have four houses and four main characters, I thought it'd be neat to have them all in different houses. I like variety in backgrounds, values and goals in my writing, sue me.**

**So on my reasoning!**

**Ethan, despite his constant monologues and swearing up and down that Harry is the kind one, he is the true bleeding heart. Look at him, he's down to help you with anything literally the minute he meets you. He is also so damn loyal and generally trustworthy that Hufflepuff was his from the start.**

**I put Harry in Ravenclaw because he is a curious, mischievous bastard. Turn around for five seconds and he's got one hand in the cookie jar and a knife in the other. Loves knowledge. Right now he wants to learn alkahestry, and is already able to do some! Sneaky little bastard!**

**Ron is Gryffindor like in canon because he is honestly perfect for the house. Impulsive, brash, brave, and in this at least chivalrous. I say "in this" because Canon Ron kinda sucked donkey balls. I'm fixing your character Rowling, your welcome.**

**Hermione was always an ambitious little shit. Like sure with her knowledge you'd think Ravenclaw, but she never just wanted knowledge for knowledge's sake. It had a purpose. She wanted it to prove herself, to protect and better the world. She's trying to liberate an entire species on her own for fuck's sake. She's Slytherin.**

**(I'm just sorry for how the other snakes are gonna treat her.)**


	11. Chapter 11

Harry didn't sleep well that night.

For as long as he could remember he and Ethan had shared a room, and without his big brother's steady presence the atmosphere felt wrong. Disconcerting. It seeped through his muscles and into his bones, leaving him stiff and wary of the night. Magic bunched over him in a bristling blanket that rose the hairs on his arms.

It tugged and needles at his ribcage, pleading to be allowed out to find Ethan's own steady chi. Eventually, he gave up on sleeping and ran with that idea. Settling for Xingese meditation and mapping out the twisting veils of magic Hogwart swaddled itself in like a newborn babe. Finding people's chi through the thick syrup of saturated magic was difficult in a way that was just challenging enough to occupy him without giving him a headache.

It was hours later, when the thin claw of the moon had journeyed from one side of Harry's window to the other, that his eyelids had finally begun to droop. Burrowing deep into the soft pillows and blankets the school allowed him, Harry fell asleep.

He awoke from his uneasy slumber to the dawn's bright light thrown over his eyelids. Turning his face into the blankets, Harry let out a groggy grunt before climbing out of their warm embrace.

Goldstein and Rivers were both asleep when he stood, and with a yawn he wordlessly rooted through his things for his toiletries. Tugging his hairbrush roughly through his bed head as he organized his things into the bathroom.

Making his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry scanned the crowds for his brother. Ethan waved him over from the Hufflepuff table, though Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"**[Sleep well?]**"

"**[Terribly,]**" Harry replied as he threw back a pumpkin flavored beverage.

"**[Makes sense,]**" Ethan agreed, "**[you look like shit.]**"

"**[Glass houses, asshole.]**"

Ethan grinned, gold-blue eyes ringed with purple, "**[hey now, my bags are designer.]**"

They chuckled, finishing the flavorless English food and standing to leave. Just as they reached the hall, they had to swerve to dodge a group of four staff members. A greasy looking man standing next to Quarrel sneered at them, and Harry felt a sharp bolt of pain.

He grunted, slapping his hand over his smarting scar, smudging his glasses in the process. Ethan said his name in alarm, but the pain was gone as soon as it had arrived. Leaving him rubbing the sore area as a portly woman hovered her hands near him in concern.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Fine," Harry hissed, "just a headache. Vaz zere somethink you needed?"

She stepped back, glancing at who Harry now noticed was Flitwick. The tiny man grinned at him, before handing him a slip of parchment. Curious, he glanced at the page, which was revealed to be a schedule.

Harry skimmed over the times, and frowned. Flitwick squeaked, "is something wrong?"

"Vee vork out in zee morninks," Harry explained, "are zee classes flexible?"

"Afraid not," Greasy said, taking care to sound disbelieving, "you'll just have to 'vork out' another time."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. The woman, meanwhile, whirled on him. Expression thunderous, "Severus! That is quite enough."

Greasy sneered at her, but fell silent.

Harry bowed, "Vee'll just rise earlier zen. Good day," his nose wrinkled, next word practically forced from his tongue, "_**Sensei.**_"

"Professor will do," Greasy replied, and Harry let out a breath of relief. Thank fuck. Harry would rather eat a live eel then call this manchild '**Sensei.**'

"Vould you like 'Professor' too?" Ethan asked the other three.

"That _is_ our title," the woman replied almost regretfully.

Flitwick squeaked, eyes alight in Ravenclaw curiosity, "but I am curious what it means!"

Harry hummed, rolling the question over in his head. Somehow, none of the definitions he found seemed to quite capture just how meaningful the title was. The cultural weight it held.

Saving him the trouble, Ethan spoke first, "**sensei** iz like- a mentor or master I suppose. Zey teach zeir students a craft, and zee students pay viz cenz or labour."

"It iz a fery heavy title," Harry added when his brother finished, "a **sensei** iz held in much esteem in a person'z life. No English vord quite compares."

The woman looked flattered, Flitwick considerate, and Quarrel perpetually nervous. Greasy, however, just continued to look disdainfully at him. Annoyed, Harry blew a raspberry, smirking as rage slowly bled into his features.

"Goodbye Professors," Harry sang, "Zee you in class!"

Tugging Ethan out of the Hall, the two ran out of the castle halls and into the open morning air. The chill made them shiver, and Harry for one couldn't wait to work up a sweat.

Starting with warm ups, the two progressed into general work out. Now, usually the most time in their exercise would be taken up by sparring, but since they needed to explore the castle anyway they decided they were better off playing tag.

Harry was 'it' first, and waited the customary moment for Ethan to gain some distance before taking off after him. Wind stirring his hair and feet rhythmically hitting the ground as he sprinted after his brother.

Now, what made Elric-Rockbell Tag fundamentally different then your regular store brand version was simple. Much like everything else Edward Elric-Rockbell did for his children, he made the decision to make it as accurate to being chased by a serial killer as possible. So, as Ethan began to make his way through the courtyard in the direction of shelter, Harry had already moved a kunai into his hand.

Not one of his real ones, mind you. The sharp steel blade on this set had been replaced with dull rubber, ensuring a nasty bruise as the worst case scenario rather than death.

His arm flicked out, rubber knife passing inches from his brother's cheek. Ethan skid to a halt and darted away from the projectile, and with another two throws Harry worked to corral him away from the exits.

But just as Harry was beginning to think he had him, the Xerxian stopped at a wall, grinning at him before whirling on his heel and leaping.

Harry swore as his brother's hand snagged on a ledge, the boy climbing quickly up the rough stone walls. He grabbed on after him, losing access to his knives in the process as he scuttled after his brother like a carnivorous lizard.

The two reached a ledge, Ethan already sprinting across the balcony before Harry's scraped hands could even latch onto it. But while Ethan had an advantage in strength, Harry did in speed, and soon he was backing his brother up against the edge.

"**[I've got you,]**" Harry announced, taking another step closer.

Ethan looked over the edge, the two of them two or three stories up, before turning to his brother with a crooked grin, "**[that's what you think.]**"

And then he took a step back, dropping off the edge of the building. Scrambling closer, Harry's heart attack lessened as he saw his brother impact water rather than dirt. Grin following, he took a leap off the edge himself.

He stiffened, eyes shut as he impacted the water rather gracelessly. Still, he knew enough about surface tension to do it safely, and was soon immersed in ice cold water that nearly shocked the breath out of his lungs. Pulling his head back into the game, Harry took off swimming after his retreating brother.

The air outside the lake seemed even colder than before, lancing right through Harry's soaked skin to his bones. Shivering, he worked back into a run, the heat returning as he slowly gained on his pseudo twin. Ethan was moving towards a gnarled willow tree far in the distance, which was curiously set aside from the rest of the campus. The reason was soon made clear, as the second he set foot in its radius the branches reached back and _swung._

He managed to duck the branch aimed at his head, but was too late to avoid the one barreling towards his gut. Harry shouted his name in alarm as his brother flew back out of the tree's area, skidding a few feet through the dirt.

Harry came to a stop at his brother's side, hands held above him in concern. Ethan, who was blessedly conscious, rolled over onto his elbows to cough and wheeze. Giggling and snorting in between hacks.

"**[I can't believe-]**" he breathed, "**[-was just- running and a- a fucking **_**tree**_ **of all things- right in the gut too… Dad's gonna love t- this.]**"

Hands retreating, Harry slowly began to chuckle two. Then to laugh in earnest, plopping on his back next to his brother. The clouds were heavy and grey, and the cold air raised shivers and gooseflesh over the brother's wet skin. Still, their grins stretched ear to ear.

"**[Gonna leave a helluva bruise,]**" Ethan mused, rolling over to lie on his back next to Harry.

He snorted, grinning up at the sky, "**[we'll match!]**"

Harry pulled up his shirt to reveal the bruise from the Gringotts' cart, dark and angry and recent, and the two laughed until the jumping muscles of their abdomens began to complain.

The two rose in time to do their cool downs and shower. Splitting up afterwards with grouchy hesitance and well wishes.

Harry's next class was blessedly with Gryffindor. His bristling outrage at the separation of him and Ethan soothed as he met Ron in the hallway looking for History of Magic. Now if only they could navigate the damn building.

See, you could put as many landmarks in Hogwarts as you damn please, but that doesn't change the fact that castles as a concept are made to withstand outside invasion. From the uniform stone walls to the secret passages to the intentionally confusing architecture, castles didn't really _do_ simple.

The problem was only magnified by the fact that despite the wealth of signs and markers, Hogwarts saw fit to move them around on a constant basis. Making Harry's head swim as he passed the same suit of armor for a third time. Not to mention conflicting directions from portraits, steps that didn't really exist or stairwells that moved, and doors that either weren't really doors or were particularly picky about how they opened.

"**[Oh for fuck's sake!]**" Harry shouted, slamming his fist against the wall as his patience wore thin. Yet another painting's advice led them to yet another dead end, and he was getting real sick of it.

Ron smiled wanly at him, "you know there's horror stories about kids going missing in Hogwarts and not turning up for weeks? Starting to think they aren't stories, mate."

Harry swore, "vhy iz Hogvartz even in zis zrice damned castle?"

The redhead looked surprised, "because of the muggles, mate. They still knew about us when Hogwarts was founded."

Harry shot him a look of confusion as he started walking again, "vhat? I don't follow."

Ron brow furrowed, like Harry had just asked him to explain basic addition, "you know, to hide and protect our kids until they could be taught how to protect themselves?"

"Vhy?"

Dumbfounded, Ron sputtered, "because they _hated_ us, mate. Wixen were killed in droves, and the muggles outnumbered us over a thousand to one! They targeted our children because they couldn't defend themselves, and in hopes that we'd die out without them. So we had to hide them away with our strongest in order to train and protect them."

Harry gaped, "schit, no vonder you vent into hidink."

Fuck, and here they were calling them rediculous for secreting themselves away like a cult. No wonder, if it was that or be picked off one by one Harry would probably want to hide his family too.

Ron was nodding, expression still curious, "I'm just shocked you didn't know. _Children_ know. I thought you were raised by wizards?"

Harry shrugged, "it'z complicated, but essentially I vas-"

_Mrrow!_

The two blinked, turning to spot a dust colored cat with yellow, lamp like eyes. It's hair was long enough for Harry to notice the fact it was a little ruffled and ungroomed, which usually indicated older age. It's eyes were narrow, and it looked distinctly unhappy.

"It's Mrs. Norris." Ron breathed.

"Missus?" Harry chuckled, "I vasn't avare cats could marry."

"She's Filch's," his friend explained, "if she catches you doing something wrong she runs to him and gets you in trouble."

Harry shrugged, "vell it's a good zing vee aren't doing anyzink, zen."

Following Entle Al's old instructions, he lowered to a crouch and extended his arm. Palm loosely opened and facing upward. Then he met the cat's eyes and slowly blinked.

Mrs. Norris looked distinctly unimpressed, but leaned forward to sniff his fingers obligingly. Carefully, Harry gave her a few testing strokes down her neck and shoulders. When she didn't bite or scratch him, he took the chance to lightly comb her mussed and dried out fur.

"Hello zere Missus," he hummed, "it'z an honour to meet a lady as beautiful az yourself. Your eyes are very pretty, like stars."

Mrs. Norris butted her head against his arm and began to purr, voice as rough and rocky as gravel. Behind him, Ron was gaping.

"Shit, mate," he muttered, "all my brothers told me she was impossible to like."

"Vell zey didn't try very hard," Harry sniffed, before turning his bespeckled gaze back to the preening Mrs. Norris, "she's a very lovely girl, aren't you Norris?"

The cat purred louder, and Harry's lips twitched into a smile as Ron sighed.

"Let me try that."

The tall boy lowered himself to his knees, offering his hand in much the same way Harry had. Soon, both boys were kneeling on the cold stone floors fawning over the raggedy thing. The attention loving bastard rumbling like a freight train.

"Mrs. Norris?"

The two stiffened, feeling caught as the grouchy old man from the welcoming feast turned to corner to find them cornering his cat. Filch's eyes narrowed, tone accusatory and dangerous, "what are you doing?"

"Petting her!" Ron yelped.

"She's a very lovely cat!" Harry agreed, the two backing away as Filch lowered himself to scoop up the furry creature.

He checked her over for a moment, parting her fur like he expected them to have shredded her. After a long moment, he set her down.

"Why aren't you in class?"

Ron let out a breath of relief, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs, "ve're lost, zir. Can you please point us towards Mr. Binnz clazzroom?"

He frowned, expression still thick with suspicion, before slowly extending a single, boney finger.

"That way. Three rights then a left, stop at the tapestry of Merlin. If you see the courtyard you've gone too far."

Bowing quickly, Harry's hand lashed out to grip Ron's as he speedwalked away. Filch's grey-green eyes following them the entire way.

Once out of sight the two slowed down, Ron snickering, "Merlin, Harry. I thought he was gonna kill us."

"C'mon, Ron," Harry snorted, "zere's two of us and one of him. Juzt hold him ztill and I'll knock him out."

"You're scary."

The door to History of Magic appeared as directed, and with a shrug Harry ducked inside. A good dozen students turned to face them as they entered, though neither was particularly bothered as they took their seats near the center. Binns, an old and shriveled ghost, didn't even pause his sentence, allowing their seamless integration.

This would have largely been a boon, but unfortunately Binns didn't pause or react to _anything._ Droning on and on in a voice so monotonous Harry was sure he'd last heard him over radio on the insomniac's channel.

Alone that wouldn't be too bad, if it weren't for the fact he kept mixing and matching names and going over the same events over and over again like a broken record.

"**[Fucking **_**hell,]**_" Harry groaned after ten minutes, "are all zee teachers zis vay?"

"Binns is a special case," Ron yawned where he was starting to doze off, "rumor has it he passed out in the teacher's lounge and left his body behind the next day. Jury's out on whether or not he knows he's dead."

"Vhy not ask him, zen?"

"Manners, mostly," Ron sighed, "'sides, you want to be the one who comforts him through an existential crisis?"

Harry considered that for a moment, before deciding that no, he'd really rather not. Retrieving his textbook instead, he tuned out Binns' unending drone and began to entertain Bathilda Bagshot's much less frustrating narrative.

Shit, Harry hoped Ron was telling the truth, because if the rest of Hogwarts was like this _he was going home._

* * *

**Sorry this one took so long, lads! My attention span has been eroding away like bread in water tbh. I'm still interested in writing this, I'm just spacy. (Even sometimes zoning out and thinking about writing the fic while **_**already writing the fic.**_**)**

**These kids' friendships **_**will **_**be believable or **_**so help me-**_

**Harry's arc at the beginning here is largely going to be about learning to accept the wizarding world (and by extension British wizards in general) without being a pretentious asshole about it. I know he's being grumpy and self-important, that's the **_**point.**_

**Also on them being nice to Mrs. Norris: I'm a huge cat person and I couldn't help myself. Sue me.**


	12. Chapter 12

Thankfully, the rest of Hogwarts wasn't like History of Magic at all. Some classes were even pleasant, like Magical Theory, or Herbology, which was extra courteous in not taking the time to single Harry out like everyone else seemed to want to.

Other teachers, like Flitwick and the increasingly pathetic Quirrel (who took care not to go anywhere near Harry after the mess in Diagon Alley) paused a little at his name, but moved on quickly enough for him to let it go.

And then there was Snape. And oh, how Harry _loathed_ him.

It was late Thursday when his class came up on his schedule. A double period, and finally, blessedly, with Hufflepuff.

His only class with his brother, as well as one with several ties and overlap with alchemy, Harry felt only confidence and delight as he made his way down.

(Though not without the help of Mrs. Norris, who was more than happy to guide him so long as he snuck her bacon in exchange for her service).

Oddly, the class was held in unventilated dungeons, and absently Harry worried the fumes would be trapped inside. The air was as stagnant as it was chilly, but he was too busy beaming with glee as he spotted Ethan near the center of the room. Their housemates gave them funny looks as they sat together, but Neville smiled shyly as Harry sat next to them.

Ethan grinned widely, and Harry saw the dull grey glint of Hasani's side move in greeting, "hey Hare! Good day?"

"More or less," he shrugged, "Granger sure likes talkink."

Ethan laughed in agreement, the Slytherin seemed to like bossing people around whenever possible, and unlike his brother, Harry didn't have the fortune of a friend in his house to partner with. If Harry had to hear one more lecture about swearing being rude he was going to scream.

"I zought you said she vas harmless?"

"She iz," Harry sighed, "just too eager. Annoyink."

"Knew vee'd find your kind eventually," Ethan grinned, and Harry shoved him with a snicker.

"'m gonna kick your ass tomorrow," Harry swore, and Ethan ruffled his hair.

"In a zspar? Ridikulous," he grinned, "vee both know I'm zee better fighter, little bruder."

"Maybe, but I'm a vhole lot _meaner._" Harry bared his teeth, "_bruder._"

They laughed, and Neville spoke up, voice soft, "s'that why you always get up so early? T'spar?"

"Yeah," Ethan laughed, "my family vorks out in zee morninks. Zorry if you vere expectink me up zen."

"No," the hufflepuff assured him, "was just wondering, 's all."

"When'd you guys become friends anyvay?" Harry asked, only mildly curious.

"First day," Neville shyly whispered, then when he spotted Harry's clear surprise amended, "your brother gives very good advice."

Ethan clapped Neville on the shoulder, "Harry'z not mad Nev, just surprised. 'z cool."

Neville nodded, but still seemed to wilt a little in his seat. Frowning, Ethan turned to Harry, "Nez's awesome. He's got zis badass garden back home zat his toad used to live in. Vat vas his name, again?"

"Trevor," Neville shyly answered, "he turns invisible."

"He turns invisible," Ethan solemnly agreed, and just as Harry was about to comment on the badassery of invisibility, the door swung open with a bang.

Snape swept into the room, and when Harry says swept he means swept. Cloak billowing behind him in a way that can only be intentional. As Harry wondered how long it took the professor to find a spell for that, he was already turning around to regard the students.

He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robe pocket and began to take roll, and Harry barely stopped himself from groaning. The monotonous name-here-repeat consistently boring him out of his head with every class to use it.

Then Snape stopped, lip curling as he spoke, "Ethan Elric-Rockbell."

"Here," Ethan replied without missing a beat, doodling gargoyles and equations along the margins of his parchment.

And then he skipped Harry's name.

Now, Harry knew the roster had been updated to show his new name. McGonagall having come to him to apologise for the mistake herself. As well as to give him a dressing down for his actions in the hall, one so thorough Granny Izumi would have applauded.

Seriously, it was terrifying.

Anyway, the reason for the missing name became clear when Snape paused a few minutes later and met his gaze. A sneer on his lips as he spoke.

"Harry _Potter._"

Anger roiled and splashed against his grit teeth like a wave, half formed insults kept on his tongue only by the strength of his jaw. Ethan, much more calmly, simply said:

"Aktually, he goes by Elric-Rockbell now."

"Are _you_ Potter?" Snape hissed, "if not, then be quiet."

"Aktually," Harry quoted his brother, "_I_ go by Elric-Rockbell now."

The wizard didn't answer, moving on to the next few names before finally folding away the page. Hands clasped behind his back, he turned his dark eyes back to the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape begins, voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic."

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimming fumes, the delicate liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. What kind of insult was '_dunderheads'_?

Maybe it was because Snape noticed Harry's shaking shoulders, or maybe it was just whatever stick he had up his ass about him, but no sooner had he finished then his coal black eyes snapped to Harry's electric green.

"Mister Potter," he demanded, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

And just like that Harry's good humor evaporated. Ignoring the question, Harry replied, "my name iz Elric-Rockbell, Professor. Zis iz zee last time I'll remind you."

"So you don't know?" He replied, tutting, "clearly, fame isn't everything. Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry didn't answer. Waiting for Snape to use his actual name. Clearly, that wasn't happening, as the man sneered again.

"Don't know again, huh? Thought you wouldn't bother opening a book before coming?"

"Bold vords from a man vho has a list of his students' names right under his nose and still can't use zee right one."

Neville yelped, but Ethan's gaze was steady as the words left his mouth. Hasani was whispering questions over why people were angry, but was left ignored as Ethan stared down Snape with knife-edged disapproval. The greasy man sneered back, and Harry was starting to wonder if his face was just stuck like that.

"I don't recall calling on you, Elric-Rockbell" he shot back, "five points from Hufflepuff."

"Zere you go," Ethan replied faux brightly, undeterred by the point loss, "zee accent iz a little zick but you got zee spirit."

"Ten points from Hufflepuff," Snape hissed, "now can _Potter_ tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Well, if he was going to throw a tantrum Harry didn't see why he couldn't.

"Can you tell me zee difference between your head and your ass?" Harry said before Ethan could even open his mouth, "I'm afraid one's too far up zee ozer for me to tell."

A few kids began to laugh, Snape's face growing an angry shade of red.

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw!" He growled, not that it really affected Harry, "and a detention on top of that!"

There was a hard edged silence then, neither side willing to back down as they glared at each other with steely eyes. Eventually, Sally-Anne Perks piped up.

"Uh, sir?" She squeaked, "I would like to, uh, know the difference. If you could just move on?"

Snape sneared, breaking eye contact with Harry to glare down the rapidly wilting girl.

"For your information," he growled, "asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons."

"As for 'the difference,'" his eyes flicked back to Perks, who flinched in her seat, "monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by aconite."

The room seemed to hold its breath as he finished, only to break into a scramble as Snape snapped, "well? Why aren't you writing this down?"

The rest of the class was simple. They were just brewing a potion to cure boils, and even as the cauldrons steamed Harry's glasses remained clear. A simple hydrophobic charm that was an old hat for the automail making family.

Harry and Ethan had paired together immediately, the latter quickly apologising to an understanding Neville. Harry was positively beaming as the brothers heckled each other over the potion. Even speaking to Hasani when the hiss of the cauldrons died down enough to hear him.

Then another, much more volatile hiss, rang out louder than the rest of the cauldron's content sizzling. Acid green smoke filled the air, and through the plumes Harry saw Neville and Sally-Anne's potion melt the cauldron it sat in. The warped and smoking pile of pewter releasing a flood of elixir that dissolved the table and dribbled onto the stone around it.

Everyone screamed, jumping up and onto their desks with shrieks of fear as the heat burned the rubber of their shoes. Neville, standing right in the immediate trajectory of the potion, froze solid as it flew towards his face. Ethan swore, jerking towards his friend and yanking him out of the splash zone.

"**[Motherfucker!]**" Ethan shouted, releasing Neville a few moments too early.

Harry caught him on reflex, stepping back once with his weight and rocking over a stool with a crash. Steadying the shaking boy, Harry moved past him to his brother, who was gripping his arm with clear pain written on his face.

"E-"

"That is why you add the porcupine quills after taking the cauldron off the fire! May this be a lesson to you, follow instructions!"

Wincing, Harry turned his attention to the fuming Snape, who was thundering towards them. The cloaked man stopped in front of Ethan, arm lashing out to grab his injured limb. Ethan gave a shout of alarm, taking a step back.

"_~Don't touch him!~_"

Snape flinched back hard as Hasani lunged out of Ethan's collar, fangs barred in a vicious hiss. More screeching followed him, and with that Snape finally made himself useful.

"_SILENCE!_"

The classroom went quiet, attention fixed on Snape as he stood across from Ethan. Hasani was still visible, slithering out of Ethan's robes to wrap securely around his shoulders. A flickering tongue testing the scent of his potion burned forearm.

"Elric-Rockbell," he spoke, "that is a snake."

Ethan nodded, and Harry slid forward to take his arm as he offered it, "congrats, you noti- schit! Noticed."

Snape shot Harry a glare, and he released his brother. He'd already seen what he needed to anyway.

"Why do you have an extremely venomous snake in your possession?"

Boot's desk looked large enough.

"He's not 'in my possession,'" Ethan sniffed, "he's a friend."

Harry removed Boot's bag from his desk, ignoring his protests as he drew out the array.

"A friend."

Harry stabbed five kunai into the necessary points.

"His name iz _Hasani,_" Ethan introduced, deliberately polite, "_~Hasani, this is~_ Snape."

Whether at the parseltongue or the introductions of knives into an already tense scenario, a few students began to yell again. Words an overlapping mess of obvious and unimportant bullshit like, "he's a parseltongue!" and "Harry's got a knife!"

British people, honestly.

Ducking out from under Snape's furious gaze, Ethan strode over to Harry. Sitting on the desk and lying his arm out over the alkahestry array with complete confidence in his brother's abilities.

It'd be flattering if it wasn't so important that Harry focus.

Splaying both hands on either side of the array, Harry focused on the energy of the Dragon's Pulse. Directing it, guiding it, shaping it. _Heal, heal, heal._

And just like that, Ethan's arm was flawless again.

"_WHAT WAS THAT?_" Snape yelled, "Potter, you could have killed him!"

"Oi!" Ethan shouted, "my brother's been trained by the best! Keep your filthy mouth shut."

Harry turned to him with a nervous grin, "and vas it alright? Any soreness?"

Ethan rotated his elbow, ducking into a fighting stance to throw a few testing punches at the air, "it'z a little sore, yeah. Muscles are all stiffened up."

He aimed a jab at Harry, who caught it with his hand. Ethan winced, "stings too."

"Damn," Harry swore, "could've sworn I had it zat time."

"_~You keep off that arm, Heathen!~_" Hasani fretted, "_~you'll hurt yourself.~_"

Ethan rolled his eyes, and Harry grinned.

"He's right you know, _Heazen,_" Harry snickered, and Ethan elbowed him in the ribs with a laugh.

"Enough!" Snape snapped, "nobody touches anything! Elric-Rockbell, Potter, come with me."

Judging by the professor's tone, it really wasn't a good idea to push him on this. Still, Harry petulantly muttered under his breath at the wrong name.

Fucking _hell,_ what an asshole.

* * *

**I know Snape is well liked in the fandom for whatever reason but… he bullies a prepubescent child near into his adulthood for looking like his father. He's an asshole and I can and will say it. No apologies here guys, if you're nearly thirty and you still throw a tantrum and bully an eleven year old for seven years you suck.**

**Also Neville deserved more friends. The books really did that boy dirty.**


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